


affinity - daryl dixon

by vacantpool (orphan_account)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Andrew Lincoln - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Chandler Riggs - Freeform, Danai Gurira - Freeform, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lauren Cohan - Freeform, Norman Reedus - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steven Yeun - Freeform, Zombie Apocalypse, melissa mcbride - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 77,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/vacantpool
Summary: "It ain't living anymore, it's survivin', and I ain't survivin' if it's not with you."
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD AMC TV SHOW OR COMIC SERIES. THE ONLY CHARACTER I WON IS RORY CAMPBELL. I DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR THE PLOT, THE SCRIPT, OR THE CHARACTERS. THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION WITH SOME INACCURATE LORE.
> 
> (starts around the end of season 5 and on)

**"The floor seemed wonderfully solid.**

**It was comforting to know I had fallen,**

**and could fall no further."**

_**-Sylvia Plath: "The Bell Jar"** _

**it wasn't until her hand rested on his shoulder, that he had realized he hadn't been touched in nearly four or five years. it wasn't a new feeling, but it was a feeling that he had missed desperately.**

**numb : linkin park**

**bury a friend : billie eilish**

**seven nation army : the white stripes**

**gasoline : halsey**

**run boy run : woodkid**

**cigarette daydreams : cage the elephant**

**505 : arctic monkeys**

**it will come back : hozier**

**the chain : fleetwood mac**

**arsonist's lullaby : hozier**

* * *

The clink of glasses and shots of 'cheers' were echoed all across the restaurant.

The bartender, just starting her shift, pulled her hair up into a swift ponytail and tied her apron tightly around her waist, and grabbed her first tray of drinks for the night. The cook pointed out which table it was going to, and she was off.

There was a cheer of Rory's name from the table. It was a group of familiar faces, drunks that were frequently there. She flashed her smile at them, one that wasn't fake but wasn't quite genuine, and set the pints of beer down on the table, tucking the now empty tray underneath her arm. She never lingered too long at each table, instead returning to the bar where the more quiet ones sat, running their fingers around the lips of their cups.

There were some new faces among the familiar ones, and she adjusted her shirt. One was young, messy brown locks disheveled around his head, and the other, bald and older. She could tell they were related, probably brothers, and she leaned across the bar, showing her teeth once more.

"What can I get you two boys?"

"We ain't boys, we're men." The bald, older one grunted out with a smirk. She played along, grinning, and brought her hands flat onto the tabletop.

"Well then, what can I get you two men?"

"I'll have a beer, and I'll bet he'll get," He pushed his brother's bicep. "Some fruity drink like a goddamn margarita."

"A beer." The younger one grunted, pushing his brother back. "A beer for me too. The cheapest one."

"Beers for the both of you." She grabbed two clean glasses and set them in front of the two, and then their most generic beer. She poured them into the glasses at the same time, while the older one smiled at her.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Rory. You?"

"Merle." He pointed to the younger one. "This one's Daryl. The last name's Dixon."

 _Merle_ and _Daryl_. Their parents must have hated them.

"Where you comin' from, Rory? You ain't got an accent like everyone else around here." 

"Merle, leave the girl alone." Daryl retorted, scratching his scalp underneath the greasy, brown head of hair. Rory chuckled under her breath and pushed the glasses of beer towards them, chucking the empty bottles into the bin behind her. 

"You're a chipper one, Daryl Dixon." She watched him chug down half the glass of beer in a mere few seconds.

"Grumpy little brother." Merle elbowed his brother, and Daryl grunted out in protest. Merle let out a bellowing chuckle and slid out of his barstool, mumbling something about going to play pool with some of their friends in the back of the restaurant.

Rory continued to take and divvy out orders, but on a Tuesday night, not many people were out and about at a dingy restaurant at the end of the highway. She ended up returning to seat behind the bar once everyone was settled, a medical textbook in her lap. She chewed on the cap of a pen, trying to study with all the yelling in the background.

"Hey," 

Rory's head shot up to assist someone, but it was just Daryl, holding up his empty glass. "Could I get another one?"

She let out a sigh under her breath and nodded, setting her book on the top of the stool and grabbing his glass, topping him off.

"What're you readin' that big ass book for?" He asked, propping his cheek on his hand. She glanced at him with a confused smile, surprised that he was suddenly so social. She chewed on her lip.

"I'm in med school to become a nurse. My first year, actually." 

"How you pay for that?" He chuckled as she slid his glass over to him. He took a sip, looking up at her with beady blue eyes.

"I've yet to figure that out." She looked at him for a few minutes, the way he cowered away from the crowd, and hugged his body close to himself. She rested her elbow against the bar. "What do you do, Daryl Dixon?"

"I don't do nothin'." He sighed. "We're drifters."

"But what do _you_ do? Not Merle, _you_."

"I just told you, nothin'." 

"I don't believe that." She shook her head. "You're more than nothing." 

Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but in a sudden moment, there was a loud boom outside of the restaurant. Everyone began to scream, and Rory rushed to the window. Daryl followed after her, for the same purpose. Half of Atlanta, Georgia was on fire. Rory shivered, tears immediately filling her eyes. The entire restaurant was quiet, and then someone turned on the radio.

_"The outbreak of man-eating humans in the U.S. has increased rapidly, and the military has been working hard to detain it, and failing. If you see one of these people, stay inside, and lock the doors. If you-"_

The radio cut out, and another explosion sounded, farther in the city. In the parking lot, they watched someone tackle another, and Rory let out a scream as the man ripped the others' throat out with his teeth. 

"Daryl! It's time to go man!" Merle yelled out. Daryl grabbed Rory's arm, and she gasped out, eyes widening like the world wasn't real anymore. She thought about her family at home, and if they were safe.

"Come with us."

"You need to go, Daryl Dixon."

She rushed to the bar and grabbed the rifle that the barkeeper kept hidden underneath, and threw it to him. 

"Get these people out of here, and go. I have to find my family."

"What about your safety?" He asked you, genuinely concerned for the girl that he had just met. She gave him a fearful grin, one that wasn't as eye-catching as her happy one, and worked on pulling her apron off.

"If we survive, I'll see you again."


	2. one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is also on my wattpad, @vacantpool!

**FOUR YEARS LATER**

She had left her there. She couldn't pull the trigger, but God, she just _LEFT_ her there.

The dead roamed the Earth now, the dead almost ruled the Earth, and it had taken almost everyone Rory knew. She had been no stranger to death before, but now she was lovers with death, she danced with it, she tricked it. She had to, in order to live in this world. 

But it seemed no matter how much she tricked death, she had to pay the price with one of her own. Her mother, her father, her sister. Her sister was still alive, but it wasn't her. She couldn't pull the _damn trigger_.

Everyone Rory had ever known was gone, and she now lived on her own. She never stayed in one place for more than a week. The dead always found her, almost like she owed them a debt that she had yet to pay. Sometimes she just wanted to pay it, but she was too smart for that. She could fight, and she would always fight if it meant keeping herself alive.

There had been five-hundred days since the outbreak of whatever the hell had turned the living into the walking dead. She felt like she hadn't slept for any of it.

She walked down a road, in a street she didn't know, in a state, she didn't know. Her backpack felt like it weighed ten pounds, and the two guns on her belt - even more. The weather had just started to warm up in wherever Rory was, which meant more animals we be out. She needed to hunt, she just wasn't sure where. One gunshot would bring a herd of the dead, so she had to be quick enough to catch something with her knife.

She was malnourished. If she didn't find food soon, she'd be as good as dead. She was barely a snack for the dead, just a bite-sized cookie.

At the sound of one of the walking corpses behind her, she let out a groan of annoyance, pulling the knife out of the case strapped around her thigh. She tossed it around in her hands and turned around, seeing the disgusting piece of shit walking around with half of its organs hanging out already. It let out a nasty wail, and she walked towards it, hurling the blade into its temple. It went down easily, and she checked the pockets of its remaining clothes for any supplies, finding nothing but a worn-out wallet with credit cards that didn't work in the current world. 

She wiped the blood from the blade carelessly on her thigh, the red smudging against her dark jeans. She pushed it back into the sheath and turned to continue walking, stopping in her tracks. 

There were two gallons of water in the middle of the road, ones that hadn't been there before. She looked around at the surrounding woods, unable to see anything past the greenery. She sprinted to them. It was tempting, but anyone could have done something to those jugs. She looked down, using her boot to kick both of them over, the caps toppling off and spilling the water onto the pavement.

"Alright," She yelled into the air. "I'm gonna give you ten seconds before I start shooting at all angles into the forest. Show yourself, put your weapons down in front of you."

She pulled her handgun out of her belt, making sure it was loaded. 

"Ten...nine...eight..."

Complete silence.

"You know what? I don't wanna wait. I'll just start firing now. If you've already started running," She yelled a little louder. "It'll just send them dead things after you!" 

She was about to put her finger on the trigger when she heard rustling in the bushes.

"ALRIGHT! Alright," 

Rory gave a cocky smile, turning to her right. A man, dirty brown hair disheveled on the top of his head, came crawling out of the woods. He was innocent-looking, a plaid button-up underneath a green army jacket, and a pen tucked inside of the pocket of his shirt. She held her handgun up to him.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Aaron."

"Well, Aaron," She waited for him to come down onto the pavement, and she held her hand up to stop him. "Drop your backpack and any weapons you have on the ground."

"Are you going to just take my things? Because I urge you, let me explain what I'm here for."

"Drop the bag and I'll let you." 

Aaron nodded, pulling the blue straps of his backpack off of his shoulder and dropping it onto the ground. He reached behind him and gently pulled a handgun, similar to hers, out of his waistband, setting it down on to the ground. She used her foot to push them away from between them and then sighed.

"Alright, give me your spiel quickly, Aaron. Losin' daylight."

"Do you have a group?" Aaron blurted out, visibly shaking.

"No. Do you think a tiny thing like me would be out alone if I had a group?"

"Then you're in luck! I have a group, five miles south from here, it's called Alexandria, and I'm a recruiter."

"This some kind of fuckin' cult?"

"Got a mouth on you, don't you?" Aaron chuckled nervously, sweat beading down his temple. She pressed her lips together, examining him. He seemed like he was telling the complete truth, but he could just be a ploy. He could be waiting to disarm and knock her out at any moment. 

"How many people are watching us right now, Aaron?"

"Nobody. I've got a car down the road, with my partner waiting. He's too far to see us."

"What's in your bag?"

"Food," He swallowed. "Water, p...pictures! I've got pictures of Alexandria in my bag."

"Alright," She kept her gun raised as she leaned down and reached her arm to grab the bag. She pulled open the bag to see that he was telling the truth. All the bag had in it was cans of food, bottles of water, and an orange envelope with what she assumed were the pictures. She threw it to him, and he caught it, just barely.

"Open it."

He did as she said and held up the pictures. It was tall, mansion-like houses, green gardens, shelves full of food.

"You expect me to believe you have white picket fences in a world like this?"

"We can show you. Look, it's getting dark, you're obviously barely surviving, on the brink of collapse. Besides, you're a nurse, we need those." 

"How do you know that?" She put her finger on the trigger. He held his hands up.

"The clip on your bag! It has a picture of you, in scrubs! Please, don't hurt me. My boyfriend is in that car and it won't end well for you if you-"

Rory dropped her gun to her side and gave him a firm nod. Worst case scenario, this was a setup, and she would have to fight her way through it. Best case scenario, he wasn't lying, and she finally had a place where she could start over.

But she wouldn't stay. She promised herself that.

"Okay, Aaron. Take me to Alexandria."


	3. two

"I'm just saying, D,"

"I'm not D, I'm Deanna, don't make me kick your ass, Rory."

"Deanna, we need to start doing target practice, _something_. Stay prepared for when these walls come down."

"Aurora, these walls are never going to come down, there is no need for target practice. These guns are for the biggest of emergencies!"

"It's Rory, and you don't know if-" 

Deanna turned, her oceanic eyes piercing into Rory's. Rory bit the inside of her cheeks, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and nodded.

"Sorry, I know you don't like it when I pry It's just... you know, I've been here for sixty-five days, and somethin' is bound to change."

The former congresswoman shot lasers into Rory's gaze, and Rory sighed, almost wanting to stamp her foot like a toddler. She was an outsider in this damn place, constantly on edge, and no one wanted to listen. Alexandria had large walls, ones that would hard to take down, but she knew it was possible for the corpses to do it if there were enough of them.

Rory left the armory garage, and spat onto the pavement, getting a bad taste out of her mouth. The Alexandria citizens watched her like a hawk. They knew she wasn't one of them, and she knew it. 

"Filters, sewage system, clean water," She mumbled to herself as she walked towards the medical building. Her gun was burning a hole in her waistband. "But no goddamn target practice for the people who need it most. Makes perfect sense, Rory. Why are you so _goddamn upset_?"

Rory took a deep breath in, pressing her lips together. She could hear kids laughing in one of the backyards, and she tried to let it calm her down, the sound of innocence, but it didn't work. It kept getting replaced with the sounds of screams, a sound she would hear soon if she didn't do something about the community. She had promised she wouldn't stay, and that promise was still ongoing, but she couldn't leave innocent people to die before she left.

She used her key to get inside of the infirmary, to see nobody there. It was obvious that Pete was going to be late, he always was, but with no surgeries to perform, she supposed the surgeon didn't need to be there. 

Rory was close to falling asleep as she waited for someone to come in for a prescription, a bandaid for their kid, anything. In what felt like hours later, but really had been thirty minutes, the door opened, revealed to be Aaron. The one who had recruited her. They had grown close since she had held a gun to his head. He had cooked for her, gotten her new clothes, listened to her, she had even stayed in his and Eric's, his boyfriend's, house for the first few nights, though she hadn't really slept. 

"Ronnie," She smiled, rubbing her eyes. "Save me from my long-lasting boredom."

"Can't, I'm going recruiting today, saw a group of maybe ten or eleven out by where I found you."

"Fucker," She groaned. "Take me with you."

"Eric is coming with me, and we need you here, Rory. You're the only resourceful one here to do shit. You know Pete's not showing up anytime soon."

She sighed, gesturing out to the empty room. "Do you see any injuries? Any people?" She hoisted herself up onto a counter, sighing. "There's always Denise." She sang, swinging her legs. 

"Denise doesn't know how to do half the shit you do." 

"Don't sell her short," She pushed Aaron's shoulder as he picked up a bottle of medication, examining it. "She can make a half-decent suture. Besides, to Miss Deanna Monroe, nothing is gonna happen to hurt anybody, she doesn't even need me. Please, Aaron," 

She set her hand on her forehead, dramatizing her pain. "I'm dying of boredom." 

"Do you ever shut up?" Aaron laughed, and she pushed him again, a bit harder, slipping off of the countertop. She moved to the back of the room, where most of the medication sat, and began scanning, half-heartedly.

"What do you need for the trip?"

"Just basic painkillers, that's all, in case of a sprained ankle. Maybe some gauze and bandages if one of them is hurt. Isopropyl alcohol."

"You know," She said while gathering some bottles and putting them in a paper bag for him. "If you had tried to recruit me with a bottle of Jack Daniel's, I would have come with you right away." 

"Not a bad idea," Aaron said, in more seriousness than she expected. She burst out into laughter, something that she had forgotten how to do since she got to Alexandria. Aaron was one of the only ones she truly trusted, and she surely didn't trust the leader of the entire community. She was leading them into an unmarked grave. Even if the dead didn't tear this place down, some of the living would. It was the only thing that she could think about, and it made her laughter die down fast.

"You talked to her again today, huh?" Aaron nudged her, watching her space out. She blinked slowly, handing the bag of meds to him.

"Yeah, she won't listen."

"We're safe here."

"For now. I've met shitty people out there, Aaron, and everyone here is just playing pretend. We-"

She took a breath, calming herself down before she blew a gasket. She could almost see Aaron watching steam blow out of her ears, her face turning beet red. She looked up at the ceiling, fighting back tears. 

"I just... It's bullshit... thinking we're okay here. Jessie told me... this place is constantly running out of rations, needing repairs on the houses, we need resources. Scavengers for supplies. But no one knows how to do that, because they're all a bunch of-"

"Careful," Aaron warned. "That bunch-of-whatever are my friends, and yours too. I've gotta go, Eric is waiting for me in the car."

Rory nodded, silent, barely feeling Aaron's hand rest on her shoulder. He pulled her into a quick hug, and she smiled softly, patting his back and making him promise to come home safe. He did, and she was going to hold him to that. She told him so and watched him walk out of the infirmary, completely oblivious, like the rest of them, of the dangers that went on outside of the walls. 

The rest of Rory's day went by with complete boredom, Pete showing up three hours late to take her shift. For doing nothing all day, she felt completely drained, like nothing she did would matter anymore. She was worried about Aaron and Eric already, unable to sleep for the entire night.

She just wanted to make a difference before she left. She wanted to make sure she wasn't leaving with blood on her hands. 

Two days later, she wondered if that was even possible anymore.

The moment that Rory heard Aaron and Eric's car was coming up the road, she was nearly sprinting to the front gates, a smile spread across her face. She waited at the front, shifting from foot to foot. She could hear footsteps from the other side and Nicholas, the gate guard, glared at her.

"Jesus girl, calm down, it's not a damn birthday party." 

He pulled the gate open, and Mary's smile fell at the sight of Aaron holding Eric, who was barely keeping it together, blood-streaked across his leg. There was a whole group in front of her, and her eyes scanned the faces, eventually falling to the one on the far right.

Why did he look so familiar?

He held up a possum he was holding by the tail and sniffed. "We brought dinner."

Rory let out somewhat of a guffaw. The voice sounded like someone she had known at one point, it sent shivers down her spine. 

Then it hit her. 

_You need to go, Daryl Dixon._

_If we survive, I'll see you again._

Her mouth fell open, and for some reason, her eyes filled with tears. She hadn't seen anyone from that long ago, and his familiar face made her want to fall to the ground. It was the last face she had seen before everything had gone to shit. He had been her last hope of humanity. She had thought about him on the nights that she had been alone, hoping that he was out there somewhere, _surviving_.

"Daryl Dixon?"

Daryl looked at his group, and then at her.

"Who is this bitch?" 

"Hey-" Aaron protested, but Rory cut him off. She walked towards him until they were feet away, and a smile spread across her face. He took a step back, gripping what was in his hands, a crossbow. On his shoulder, was something that she had almost wished she had taken for herself. The rifle from the bar.

"So, Daryl Dixon, you still more than nothin?" 

"Wait-" He squinted his eyes and brought his face closer to hers. "Rory? The bartender nurse?"

"The one and only."

"I didn't think I'd ever-"

Rory couldn't help it. She jumped up to wrap her arms around him, tears falling down her cheeks. He had made it out, and she knew they would. Daryl's body had seized up, and she pulled back, uttering a silent apology. She could see that Daryl had loosened up a tad bit, though as he looked into Alexandria, he was surely nervous.

She would be with him every step of the way.

Her eyes traveled across the group again, falling onto a man holding about a three-month-old baby. They were covered in dirt, in blood, and in sweat. She knew how they felt. She had been through it too.

"I was out there for three years. I know how it feels, and it's going to be weird here for a little bit." She leaned forward, and spoke in a whisper. "They're all completely oblivious." She held her hand out. "I'm Rory Campbell."

He grabbed hers.

"Rick Grimes."


	4. three

_"Wow,"_ He thought. _"There she is."_

He watched her take Eric's arm and put it around her shoulder, carrying his weight.

_There she is._

Did she know how much Daryl thought about her? Did she know how much he wondered if she was dead, some stupid bartender that he had met once, and had a five-minute conversation with?

Just like his, her hair had gotten longer. She was grittier than she had been in the bar, and her eyes had changed. Something had gotten lost in them, like a bottomless pit of dark brown, almost black, that you could sink into.

Why was he so relieved? He felt like a weight had left his shoulders. Not a weight, more like guilt. The asshole-looking guard broke his gaze from her.

"Before we take this any further, I need you all to turn over your weapons. You hand them over."

"Don't be an ass, Nicholas. Do you think a man with a baby is gonna start shooting up a harmless community?" Rory retorted, and it made Daryl grunt pleasantly, his grip tightening on the tail of the possum in his hand. 

"If we were gonna use them," Rick nodded. "We would have started already."

"Let them talk to Deanna first."

"Who's Deanna?"

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place."

"I can take you to her," Aaron stated as the gate closed. Daryl watched Rory wince as she tried to hold Spencer up with his broken ankle.

"Can we get him here first? Are any of you injured? Where's Pete?"

"Drunk again." Nicholas sighed, turning around with Aaron to lead them towards Deanna's. 

"Fucking dick." She gasped, her eyes traveling to the baby. She looked up at Rick, putting her hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Daryl felt his lips twitch. _There she is._

"Deanna is gonna want to see Rick first, so if anyone wants to head to the infirmary and get checked out, you're welcome to. Just follow Rory." 

They all shook their head like they were good, except for Daryl. He had a pretty bad cut on his leg from sliding on the ground to dodge a walker, and it was full of gravel. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go with her, but he was worried about it being infected, and he could also see that she was struggling to hold Eric up.

"I'm goin' for this," Daryl grunted out to Rick, pointing to his bleeding leg. Rick nodded.

"Good idea."

He followed Rory a few feet behind towards a small white building with a glass screen door. It was the cleanest building he had ever seen before, and he was almost scared to put his boots on the hardwood flooring, in fear of getting it dirty. But he stepped in and watched Rory use all her strength to get Eric onto a hospital bed. He watched her put a cloth in Eric's mouth, and set the fracture, without fear, and find him a splint that would fit as best as it could. Eric was brave to do this with a straight face, Daryl was unsure if he could even do that. He fell asleep quickly from their long travels, his ankle elevated on a stack of pillows. 

He hadn't moved in almost an hour, watching her move behind a counter a few feet away. Then she was looking up, smiling, and it was that same smile he had seen at the bar. Bright, genuine. She patted the counter in front of her.

"Up here, soldier." 

_There she is._

He had to push himself in his mind to walk to where she patted, and he hoisted himself up to sit on the counter. Rory hissed at the sight of the cut and turned around, gathering the materials she needed. He watched her disheveled hair sway as she picked up cotton pads, and bottles of unidentified liquids. 

"I'm sorry for hugging you like that," She chuckled. "I just haven't seen a _person,_ person in four years. Especially one that I've met before." 

"These aren't," Daryl cleared his throat. " _People_ , people?"

"They're ignorant people, people who have never really seen outside of these walls." She turned back to him and set down her materials next to his injured leg. She worked on unlacing his boot, and he tried not to pay attention to her fingertips creating a spark on his skin

What the hell was wrong with him?

She pulled the boot off and rolled up his pant leg, showing the cut on his skin. It wasn't actually that bad, but she still cringed at the blood, grabbing a cotton pad doused in alcohol and wiping it away. It stung, but not nearly as bad as what he had been through recently. 

She used tweezers to pull dirt and gravel out of the cut, her hand grasping his ankle to keep herself steady. Her fingertips were burning holes into his skin. He couldn't believe that she was alive, and right in front of her. Once she was done, she wrapped it with gauze and assisted in pulling his boot back on, lacing it up for him. He pulled his pant leg down and got up, feeling cleaner already.

"Thank you."

"Wait," She looked up at him, and stood on the tips of her toes to grab his chin, glancing at some cuts on his face. "Let me clean those."

" 'M fine."

"Daryl-"

"I said I'm fine!" He retorted loudly, not enjoying his mixed emotions that were stirring because of her. She huffed out of her nose and grabbed his arm to stop him from walking out.

"Daryl Dixon, sit your ass down and shut up. Deanna is definitely not done with Rick yet, you've got time."

Daryl scoffed, opting to lean against the countertop, glaring down at her. She smiled, grabbing a cotton pad and dabbing them at the cuts.

"Grumpy asshole." She muttered to herself. "Just like at the bar." 

The bar. That's what he was wondering about. Where had she gone? How was she _alive_? He could tell by the holster on the hip and the knife on her thigh that she was smart about things, and had definitely convinced whoever ran this place to let her have them. Nobody, but the gate guard Nicholas, had weapons, as far as he saw. 

"Rory, how're you alive?"

"I appreciate your faith in me." 

"I mean..." He grunted. "Where'd you go after the bar? You gave me that gun." 

"To my family. I went to my family to see if they were okay." 

She used a tweezer to take out some dirt in the cuts, and then wiped them with alcohol once more. The cuts were extremely mild, but she took her time, with precision. One of her hands rested on his shoulder, and he shifted uncomfortably, squinting at her.

"Were they okay?"

From the looks of her expression, they hadn't been. Her eyes became glassy, and she avoided his eyes, shaking her head.

"N...No. My mother was one of 'em, and she was..." She sucked in a breath through her teeth. " _Eating_ my dad." She shook her head, setting down the cotton pad. "And my sister... she's still one of them as far as I know... I couldn't-" 

She finally met his eyes.

"I couldn't do it."

Daryl felt his heart do a flip for the girl in front of him, and he wasn't even sure why. Something about the way she let out a whimper like a hurt puppy as she put the medical supplies away erected something in him that he had never felt before. It felt like he had known her for years, and that she was just finally opening up to him. 

He swallowed, blinking slowly. Her back was turned to him now as she organized what she had been putting away, and he realized he had to ask the questions. He couldn't look at her if he didn't.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

"Walkers?"

"Them dead things that used to be human."

"Oh. Hundreds." She sniffed. He was glad her back was turned, so he couldn't see her tears. "Thousands maybe."

"How many people?"

"Ten." 

_There she is._


	5. four

They were all kind to her.

Sasha, Michonne, Maggie, Rosita, Abraham, Noah, Rick, Glenn, Gabriel, Tara, Eugene, Carl, Daryl. God, Daryl.

She was so happy Daryl was alive. She almost felt his heartbeat as she had patched him up, and it made her ecstatic. She had never been so happy to see a familiar face before.

She wasn't sure if he felt the same. He was very silent. 

It had been two days since the group had gotten to Alexandria, and they were staying in Rory's house. She didn't mind it. She rarely slept, so she was keen on giving up the bed, and taking a small spot on the couch across from Rosita. It felt good to have a community so much like her. 

They understood her. When she woke up from nightmares, nobody batted an eye, unless it was Daryl, who didn't sleep almost as much as her. They would sit in comfortable silence, him looking out the window, like danger could still come at them through the strong walls of Alexandria. She couldn't blame him. She would just watch him, not saying anything, and he knew it. He would glance at her once she had fallen back asleep, just to make sure she was okay.

Daryl specifically was very skeptical about Alexandria, and would most of the time spend the days out on the porch, avoiding everyone. 

Rory, on this particularly beautiful day, a pack of cigarettes in her hands, saw him sitting on top of the porch railing, trying to fix up his crossbow. He looked up at her, grunted, and then moved his eyes back down as she moved to sit down next to him. She pulled the cigarette out of the box and put it in between her lips, using an old Zippo she had found from years ago to light it. 

"You can explore, you know." She blew smoke towards him, and he let it envelop his face. "Sometimes I use the dead things outside the wall as target practice. It's nice up there, on the watchtower."

The door to the house opened up once more, and Carol walked out. Even knowing her for two days, Rory's eyes widened. Her salt and pepper gray hair was clean and styled down, and she was wearing something that grandmothers would wear, a blue cardigan and khakis. She smiled at the two of them.

"Time to punch the clock and make the casseroles!"

"What?" Daryl responded, hissing as something sharp in his crossbow poked him. 

"Make dinner for the older people; mom's who need a break, people who can't cook. Get to meet a lot of new neighbors that way."

Daryl stared at her for a minute and scoffed, a small smile playing on his face. "Alright."

"Have you taken a shower yet?"

It was clear that he hadn't. Dirt covered his muscular biceps and face, and his hair was greasier than bacon, but Rory played along anyhow as he nodded. Carol clicked her tongue.

"Take a shower. I'm gonna wash that vest. We need to keep up appearances, even you." She walked down the steps with a smile, one that Rory knew to be fake. Daryl mumbled something of annoyance under his breath and then turned to yell to her.

"I ain't starting now!"

"I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep."

"You look ridiculous." 

Rory giggled, taking in another inhale of carcinogens. She flicked ash onto her porch and looked over at him. He was still struggling to fix something wrong with the crossbow. Her eyebrows knitted together.

"Lemme see."

"What? No."

"Lemme see it." She repeated, sticking the cigarette in her mouth to hold both of her hands out. Daryl sighed, sliding down to sit next to her on the ground. He put it in her hands, and she took the cigarette, handing it to him.

"Hold this." 

Daryl took it, staring at it for a moment before putting the cigarette between his own lips, inhaling the smoke. She examined the crossbow. In all honesty, she wasn't sure how they worked at all, but she could see that one of the cables that shot the bow had snapped. She took the cable and worked on tying a knot and pulling it around the limb of the bow.

"Now try it." She handed it back to him. He looked at her, confusion in his eyes, and held the crossbow up to a nearby tree, shooting an arrow into a high up branch.

"How did you-"

"The problem was right in front of you." She chuckled, and he snorted, handing her cigarette back to her. 

"Shut up." 

Rory made a satisfied smile and looked out into the street, to see someone she had gotten to know well making his way across the street. She grinned, sliding the pack of cigarettes towards him. He looked like he needed it.

"Smell ya' later, grumpy ass." She pushed herself up and ran towards the man, grabbing onto his shoulders and hoisting herself up. He grunted out, grabbing onto their legs before they both toppled over, and she ruffled his hair. 

"Hey, Rory."

"Aiden Monroe," She smiled. "What are we doing on this fine day?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in the infirmary?"

"It is Thursday, my dear boy, and Thursdays and Fridays are my wonderful days off if you didn't know. Now, what are we doing?"

"Going on a run, gonna take a few of the new ones."

"Great, I'm coming with you."

Aiden had been there for Rory when she had first made it to Alexandria. He was Deanna's youngest boy, and he was completely oblivious to danger, but when she felt like she was going crazy, he was there. They had even gone on runs together, and he had saved her from walkers when she had been searching for medication. He was terrible at it, but his heart was in the right place. They had grown close, like siblings. 

They met up with Nicholas down the road and then approached the group waiting for them at the gates. Rory jumped off of Aiden's shoulders, and moved her hands around her waist, making sure she had her gun and her knife on her leg. 

"Glenn, Tara, Noah? Nice to meet you, I'm Aiden. You met Nicholas pulling gate duty, and I'm sure you know Rory already."

Rory smile

"You're Deanna's son?" Glenn questioned, turning away from his friends.

"That's right," Aiden responded. "I hear you got experience making supply runs. Rory usually does them for us on her own."

"I saw your pantry. You guys seem to do pretty well."

"Yeah," Aiden looked off into the distance. "Had some training before this. ROTC. Was nearing Lieutenant when this shit blew over."

Rory's eyes rolled, and she chewed on her lip to stop herself from telling him to get his head out of his ass. Glenn noticed, a small smile tugging on his cheeks. Noah looked up.

"My dad did ROTC."

"He didn't make it?"

"Nah."

Aiden looked down at his shoes, suddenly embarrassed. Rory elbowed him, hard, and he glared at her.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry a lot these days. Come on, Rory will help show the ropes, she's the best at this."

"Dammit, stop bragging for me." She muttered, following him towards the gates. Tara frowned, the sun beaming directly into her eyes.

"We're doing a run today?"

"Just a dry run. Show you the terrain outside the walls, see how you do. Weigh each other's sack a little, you know?"

"Stop being an ass," Rory replied, to which Tara snickered. Glenn questioned weapons, and Nicholas handed them guns from the armory, and they were on their way. Rory hanged back with the group, and let Nicholas and Aiden swing their masculinity around carelessly, smirking at each other. Rory couldn't help but want to punch both of them, but she knew Aiden was excited to have new people around. 

"They're assholes," Rory reassured the three, crossing her arms as the gate opened. "You can say it."

"Thank you," Tara let out a breath and smiled genuinely. "I've been wanting to say it for a hot minute."

Rory laughed, pulling her knife out of the sheath as they left Alexandria. They walked down a large gravel road for about a mile, leaving it and going into a brush. Rory was already dreading going on a run with them, but she wanted to get to know the new group. She could see they felt out of place, and she wanted to change that.

"We've been increasing our radius mile by mile, spreading in a semicircle around town," Aiden explained as they walked towards the woods.

"We've made it fifty-three miles out so far," Nicholas added.

"We break into groups when we step outside our vehicle. If shit hits, we fire a flare. One group gets the other."

"Good system." Noah boosted their ego. Aiden smiled.

"It is. Still, you're standing here because we lost four people last month."

"What happened?"

"We were on a run, roamers came out, they didn't follow the system. It's what's going to happen to you," Aiden pointed back at Rory and then turned to keep walking. "If you don't stop going off on your own."

"Those people didn't know how to fire a goddamn gun." Rory retorted, quietly, they were good people though. Just gotta train them or something..." She sang the last part, knowing Aiden got as much as an earful as Deanna got on most days. He ignored her. She had known the group that had gone out and gotten themselves killed. They were young and stupid, and they definitely weren't ready, but Deanna had sent them out anyways. 

She should have gone with them, but instead, she helped burn them.

"Look, I can be a hard-ass, and I know I'm a douchebag. Someone's got to call the ball around her and that someone is me." He turned and stopped walking. "If you're on this crew, you do exactly as I say."

"Aiden-" Rory warned, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

"You too, short stack."

Rory huffed through her nose and raised her middle finger to Aiden, but he only smiled, completely used to it by now. She didn't know why he was being such an asshole to the new people, but she didn't like it. It was like he was planning something he didn't know about. 

"Sorry, you lost your people," Tara responded, walking past him. 

"Yeah, we got ours. Managed to snag one of the deadheads that took them down. Strung it up there."

"What?" Rory scoffed, shoving her knife back into its sheath to catch up with Aiden. "You didn't tell me you did that, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"It gets our heads on straight. Reminds us what we're up against."

"If Deanna-"

"Son of a bitch!" Nicholas yelled as they reached a clearing. Rory looked up to see a chain hanging from a tree branch, guts and blood covering the metal and dripping onto the floor. Rory rubbed at her temples.

Dumbasses.

"Help me find it." He ordered the group, who stood, clueless to their logic.

"Look at this shit, the blood's still wet. It's nearby."

Nicholas clapped his hands, whistling to try and find the walker. Glenn's eyes widened.

"It's gone!"

"It took down one of our friends. It's nearby, we're not letting it go!" Aiden responded, face turning red. Nicholas whistled again, and Rory felt something grab at her shirt, and a growl. It pushed her down to the ground, and she felt someone pull it off her, thrusting a knife into its head. Blood sprayed against her face and she looked up to see Glenn, holding his hand up to help her up.

"Thank you." She coughed, wiping the blood with her hands.

"What the hell?! I wanted that alive!" Aiden yelled, pointing at the dead walker on the ground.

"You almost got her killed!" Glenn retorted.

"You don't even know her."

Rory scoffed, pushing past her friend, and Glenn followed. Aiden had no clue what he was talking about. It was like his eyes were glossed over with unawareness. She wiped more blood off of the front of her shirt as best as she could, wanting to vomit. 

They walked back to the gates in silence, and Aiden pushed his gun into Rory's chest for her to carry it.

"You three need new gigs. You're not ready for runs yet."

Glenn chuckled, not turning as he walked. "Yeah, pretty sure you've got that backward."

"Hey, hey!" Glenn turned to look at him.

"Look, we got a way of doing things around here-"

"You tied up walkers."

"It killed our friend! Look, I'm not having this conversation. You obey my orders out there."

Rory jumped in between Glenn and Aiden and looked Aiden in the eye. She could see from her peripheral that people had come to watch, and she could even see Daryl, his crossbow in hand. She tried to ignore it, looking up at him.

"Aiden, your orders got the last group killed. Admit that to yourself. You're the one that-"

She felt a sting across her cheek, and her body falling back into Glenn. She looked up, to see that Aiden was holding his hand out, a streak of blood across it. 

He had slapped her. 

"Hey-" She heard Daryl grunt out, and she turned to look at him, holding her hand out.

She scoffed, bringing her shaky fingertips up to her cheek and seeing blood come back on it. Glenn helped push her back up onto her feet, and it took Rory everything in her not to tackle Aiden to the ground and pound his face in. She held back tears, looking at her friend in a new light. She was unaware that this is what he would become around new people. She didn't like it.

"You're a dick, which is surprising because you don't have one."

"Aiden!" Deanna's voice ran through as she rushed down towards the gates to see what was happening. "What is going on?"

"This guy's got a problem with the way we do things. _Rory's_ got a problem with the way we do things." He turned to his mother. "Why'd you let these people in?"

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there." Glenn retorted. "You should listen to your friend."

Aiden turned, taking at swing at Glenn. Glenn was quick, ducking, and tackling Aiden to the ground. Nicholas ran to Daryl but was no match for him. It took two seconds for Daryl to slam him into the ground, and Rory was still just standing there, holding her cheek.

"That is enough!" 

She watched Rick, Carl, and Michonne run towards them. Rick grabbed Daryl, pulling him off of him. Nicholas let out a choked cough, and Rory almost wanted to smile. Instead, she just held her cheek.

"You deserved that, assholes." 

"I want everyone to hear me, okay?" Deanna asked. "Rick and his people are part of this community now, in all ways as equals. Understood?" She turned to her son, and he nodded.

"Understood."

"All of you, turn in your weapons." She pointed to Nicholas and Aiden. "Then you two, come to talk to me." 

Rory shook her head, still holding her cheek. Her eyes still burned with tears, and she turned, walking away, back towards her house. Everyone had some sort of ego there, and she was sick of it. The group that had shown up in the gates two nights ago was smarter than all of Alexandria combined, and if Aiden couldn't see that, he was a complete dumbass.

"Hey-" 

She heard behind her. She kept walking.

"Hey!" 

Rory felt a hand on her shoulder whipping her around, and she turned to face Daryl. He looked nervously at the ground and then up at her.

"You alright?"

"It takes more than Aiden fuckin' Monroe to..." She swallowed. "Hurt me."

"You look like you're 'bout to cry."

"I'm not." She sighed. "Just tired of assholes."

"You need help with," He gestured to his own cheek. "That?"

She looked up at him with a smile.

"That sounds lovely."


	6. five

"I don't know what to do, mom. I'm surrounded by people, and I still feel completely alone."

Rory stabbed the ground underneath her, and then pulled up the grass with her fingers, the tree behind her scratching up the skin beneath her tanktop. She didn't hide the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

She dropped the grass from her hands and brought her hands to her face, scratching at the skin. She rocked back and forth, trying to bring her breathing down to a normal level. She sucked a sharp one in through her teeth and looked up at the sky with red eyes.

"I want to protect them like I couldn't protect you, and they won't let me. They won't..." She grabbed the handle of her knife and stabbed the ground again. "They won't listen."

It had been a few days since the altercation with Aiden, and she had explained to Deanna that problems like that were why they needed more supervision around the walls. So, she made Rick and Michonne constables, but it wasn't good enough. It wouldn't be long until something came down, she knew it, and she wouldn't listen. She had argued with Deanna for two hours, eventually bursting out when she was told all she was good for was divvying out medicine. She had snuck out of Alexandria, climbing over the far end of the wall, not even bringing her gun. 

She had gone to where she usually left to when she was upset, a field two miles up from Alexandria. From afar, she could see a field of sunflowers that were long since overgrown, and there was a long willow tree that she sat under, its leaves hanging over to shield her from the sun. 

Rory was completely clueless on what to do.

If they weren't going to listen, why was she there?

Rory scoffed, shaking her head.

"I'm talkin' to a dead woman." 

"Wanna talk to someone alive?"

Rory jumped at the sound of a grisly country accent and the feeling of someone standing behind her, and she whipped around, to see that it was Rick. He made a gesture with his hand for her to scoot over, and he sat down with a grunt, leaning against the tree with her. 

"It's nice out here." He stated, pulling her knife out of the ground and wiping the dirt off of it with his fingers. He twirled it in his fingers and looked over at her.

"What are you doin' here by yourself? I saw you sneak out."

She sniffed. "Needed some time away." 

"What happened? I heard Deanna yelling, and then saw you storm out... had to stop Daryl from running after you."

She chuckled and shook her head. He was such a stupid man.

"For a while, I've been trying to get more patrol around the wall. I want to train citizens. I've just been thinkin'..." She took her knife from Rick and pushed it back into the sheath. Her back came off of the tree to look at him more directly. "Eventually, those walls are gonna come down, you know? We need to be prepared for that, but Deanna thinks we're fucking invincible!" 

She felt her blood pressure rising in her body, and she slumped back down against the bark, huffing from her mouth to blow hair out of her face.

"Sorry, I just cannot calm down about this. Not this time."

"No," Rick nodded, bringing one of his knees up to his chest. "You're right, you're entirely right. I'll talk to her about it."

She looked at him with a grin. "You will?" 

"Yeah, if she won't listen to you, maybe she'll listen to a constable." Rick straightened his Alexandria windbreaker with a cocky smile, and she rolled her eyes, pushing him. He laughed back, examining her face.

"You're different, Rory. You've seen somethin' not like them." 

Rory's smile fell, and she nodded in a matter-of-fact manner, raising her eyebrows.

"You could say that."

"Who?" He paused for a moment and moved himself to sit in front of her instead of beside her in the grass. "Who did you lose?" 

Rory looked up at him, wondering why he cared, but she could see that he was genuine. He was chewing on his lip, looking directly into her eyes, like it was life or death to find out what happened to her.

"I'm sure Daryl has told you," She cleared her throat. "I met him and his brother the night all of this shit happened, gave him a gun and sent him out, and went home to my family."

"Were they-" 

She shook her head, images of her parents flashing through her head. Blood in between her mother's teeth, and a gaping hole in her father's chest, his body splayed out on the staircase of their home. 

She explained it to him. She explained how she had to kill her mother with the leg of their coffee table because she had lunged at her. She had gone upstairs to grab supplies and had been met with her younger sister. Her best friend.

Wren.

The only person who truly knew her, who had gained the same fate as her mother. She wasn't able to pull the trigger on the handgun she had taken from her father's safe. She had locked the door on her sister, and ran off, in complete shock. She could hear her growls from the window as she left an hour later, a backpack full of everything she needed in her arms. 

"I'm sorry..." Was the only thing that Rick could respond with, and then, "I've lost people too. A lot of people. It's hard now... being in a place like this."

"Yeah," She shrugged. "I keep to myself. I've been here two and a half months after four years of trying to survive and..."

"It doesn't feel right." He finished for her. She nodded, her mouth falling into a thin line. It felt good that there were people now that understood. Finally.

Rory stood up, and reached her hand out to him, helping him stand. 

"Are you going to that thing Deanna organized?"

Rory frowned. "There's a thing?"

"A welcoming party for my group."

"Oh," She shook her head. "No offense but I think I'll pass. I've pissed Deanna off enough today. I think I'll just hang in the infirmary." 

Rick and Rory walked back in silence to the gates, and Rory let out a sigh at the sight of Deanna standing, her arms crossed like a pissed off mother. She was barreling towards Rory the moment the gates were closed behind them.

"You don't get to leave like that. It is against-"

"You don't tell me what to do." 

"How did you even get over the wall?" Deanna asked, her eyes narrowing.

Rory scoffed, looking up at Rick, who shifted nervously, situating his tie.

"We do need to talk security. We need a constant patrol along the walls. Not just looking for damage, but signs that anyone climbed in from outside. You can move right up the supports. That's what I'd do, that's what Rory did. People are the real threat now."

"Rick," Deanna looked at Rory, knowing that she put him up to this. "I know you think that we should all be armed within the walls. I can't do that."

"That's fine. You make these changes, we won't need to."

"Excuse me!" The group turned to see Sasha walking toward them, just coming back from the gates. She approached Deanna, looking her in the eyes.

"I want to volunteer to be one of the lookouts in the clock tower."

"There are no lookouts in the clock tower."

"What?"

"We saw someone up there earlier."

Deanna's eyes closed and she nodded. "That was an empty rifle my son Spencer put up there. He mans it sometimes, but not often."

Everyone looked at her, completely dumbfounded.

"Look, there hasn't been the need."

"We need a lookout in that tower right now, 24/7," Rick demanded. "It's the only way we'll be able to see if someone's coming at us."

"Okay, okay." Deanna nodded. "We'll make shifts."

"I'll take those shifts, as many as possible." Sasha retorted, almost shaking from anticipation. Rory stood up a bit straighter.

"Me too."

"No, we need you in the infirmary."

"I was a freshman in medical school when all this shit happened, I don't know jack shit about anything! But I know how to fucking shoot." 

Rick grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back and mumbling for her to calm down.

Deanna agreed to it, but would have Spencer being up there the first night. The only agreement was that Sasha had to go to the welcoming party at her house, and Rory had to cook something.

She didn't know how to cook anything, but she agreed, completely exhausted. She waited for everyone in the front of the wall to disperse, and then turned to Rick, a smile on her face. She wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making her listen. Things are going to change now." 

Rick squeezed her arm for a moment. 

"You're welcome." 


	7. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!WARNING: MINOR SEXUAL ASSAULT IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE CHAPTER!!! AGAIN, MINOR SEXUAL ASSAULT IN THE SECOND HALF OF THE CHAPTER.!!!!

To bake an apple pie, she always used Honeycrisp. 

Four and a half pounds of apples, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, cardamom, allspice, ginger.

Love. To make a good apple pie, there had to be a whole lot of love inside of it. Rory's mother had taught her that when she was very young. Every time she mixed the apples, she would think of a good memory. She said that if you used nostalgia while you baked, people would feel nostalgia while they ate it. 

As she rolled out the dough, her hands covered in flour, she couldn't think of anything but terrifying memories. As she mixed the apples, she saw her father's face covered in blood. As she toppled them onto the dough, she saw her mother. When she cut the pattern for the top of the pie, she saw Wren.

The pie turned out a little bitter when she taste-tested it. It would have to be good enough. It was the only thing she truly knew how to make. 

Once the pie was done and cooled, she wrapped a towel around it. 

Deanna wanted her to be a goddamn housewife.

Rory heard a knock at the door as she tore off her apron, and she sighed, her bare feet slapping against hardwood as she went to answer it. She had least expected it to be Daryl, shifting from foot to foot, crossbow on his shoulder, like always. Without a word she let him come inside, and she heard some sort of laugh from behind her. She turned, hands on her hips.

"What?"

"You've got flour on your cheeks." He smiled half-heartedly, and she rolled her eyes, wiping it off with her palms.

"Smart-ass." She whispered to herself, returning to the kitchen.

"What're you makin'?" 

Daryl looked like he had been drugged with a hallucinogenic. He was almost smiling as he breathed in the scent of the apple pie, and she made a giddy smile, pulling the towel off of her pie, showing it to him. His mouth fell open.

"Pie?"

"Apple." She nodded, watching him lick his lips. "You want a piece?"

"I... uh-"

"Yeah, you do." She opened a drawer in front of her and grabbed a knife, beginning to cut a piece for him. "Now what did you come here for?" 

"Rick told me to check on you a few hours after coming back from the outside."

"Yeah?" She smiled. "Well, Rick told me that he had to stop you from comin' after me when I was climbing over the wall."

"Just because..." He reached into the back of his waistband, pulling out her gun. He set it down on the table, the barrel facing the doorway. "You left this at Deanna's, and you went out there with just a knife."

"I think I'm capable of handling myself." She teased, grabbing a plate from behind her and setting it down. She took the piece of pie and set it onto the plate with a fork, and slid it towards him. "Enjoy, Daryl Dixon." 

Daryl looked up at her, almost like he was hesitant, and she urged him to take a bite. He cut it with the fork, and stabbed it, almost with aggression, and took a bite, chewing it slowly. 

She swore Daryl almost audibly moaned, and she giggled. He ate the pie in what felt like almost two seconds.

"What do you think?"

"I haven't had a pie since I was little." He explained shyly. "This is..." He couldn't finish his sentence. He just shook his head in amazement, unable to speak. 

"I know, I could have been Gordon Ramsay in the old world." 

Daryl grunted like he wasn't sure who that was. Then he pushed the plate aside. "I know that you're...you're capable of handling yourself." He looked down at his rough, calloused hands. "I don't know... feel like I owe you or something."

"For what?"

"That gun you gave me, it probably saved my brother's life, and mine, until I got this." He pointed to the crossbow. "Which wasn't for almost a year." 

She smiled, hoisting herself up onto the countertop and turning to face him. She shrugged, rubbing her hands together.

"You don't owe me anything. It was just good luck. Right place and the right time." 

"You could 'ave died because of me, 'cause you didn't have nothin' to protect yourself with." 

Rory felt her heart melt. She was just some stupid bartender that had tolerated his older brother's flirtatious advances, and he cared about her, whether he would admit it or not. He was worried about her, she could see that, and guilty. He was guilty that she might not have made it out alive. 

Occasionally, she had felt guilty too. She wanted to go Daryl and Merle, and maybe she could have gotten them to come with her to her family, but she wanted someone more useful than her to live. 

She looked up at him.

"I was just some college bitch. I didn't matter then, not sure if I matter now. What does matter is that we both survived. So, I get to say I told you so."

"About what?"

"I said, ' _If we survive, I'll see you again.'._ I was right."

Daryl snorted, standing up and getting ready to leave. He pulled his crossbow over his shoulder walked to the door, silent, and still shy. She gave him a smiling goodbye, but before he left, he turned.

"Rory... you're... not a ' _college bitch'._ You matter now. Don't forget that." 

Rory felt her face turn hot, and she nodded to him. 

"You too." 

The welcoming party started just as the sun was coming down over Alexandria's walls, and Rory had no intention to stay. She entered Deanna's home, set the pie on the counter, and that was it. She passed by women talking about casserole, men talking about grilling steak back in the old days, and missing laminating business cards and going to casinos. 

It was all bullshit. It was all they thought about.

All Rory thought about was the things that made her ugly. The walkers that had used to be people, and the lives that were stolen from them. How her family would never see her walk down the aisle, and how she would never tell her mother that she was pregnant. She would never get to care for patients in an actual hospital or get proposed to.

It was all the things that she had dreamed of. Maybe she was just self-pitying, or maybe it was just daydreaming. Either way, she couldn't believe all that the people here cared about was goddamn casseroles. 

She wanted to live, not be goddamn Betty Crocker.

She left for the infirmary once the sun was down, and of course, there were no patients. Eric had returned home with Aaron, and there was nobody dumb enough to go out on their own and get injured, except for Rory. 

She was alone, until Aiden came along, knocking on the door. He had nearly scared her half to death, being a mere shadow in the dark, but she let him in, hesitantly. 

"What do you want?"

"I just..." Aiden burped. "I just want to apologize, you know?" He stumbled through the doorway and smiled, almost toppling over his own feet. Rory's eyes rolled. He was completely intoxicated.

"Aiden, who gave you alcohol?" She groaned, helping him over to the doctor's table so he had something to lean against.

"I gave me alcohol," He scoffed. "Stupid question."

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one. I'm glad you came to apologize." She tried to walk to the counter to grab him water, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her back with a tight grip on her wrist. 

"No, really, I wanna apologize..." 

"Aiden,"

His hands moved to her hips.

"I hit you, I shouldn't like... do that to you, and I came to make it up to you." 

It had happened so fast. He had turned her over on the counter and kissed her, hard, the taste of tequila on his tongue. His hands had moved to the buttons on her jeans, and for a moment, she thought about grabbing her knife, but she didn't. She maneuvered so her teeth grabbed his lip, and she pulled so hard that he bled, and banged her head against his, knocking him out. 

She hadn't felt the tears come until they were falling onto the floor. He was breathing, he would be fine, but she didn't know what to do, so she left the infirmary. She left and went to the only person who had shown her kindness the first day she had been there. She banged on Aaron's door like it was life support, Aiden's blood still on her lips. 

Aaron had opened the door, shocked, almost thinking she was a walker, with her sheet white face and the blood across her mouth, but then she had sobbed out and jumped into his arms, explaining the whole thing in a rapid pace. Aaron had to shake her to get her to calm down and look her in the eyes. 

"I can barely understand you, Rory, come on, calm down." He looked down. "Why are your jeans unbuttoned?"

Rory looked down herself and cursed, buttoning them and zipping them back up with an apology. Aaron led her into the kitchen, and she heard people stand, their chairs raking against the floor. Her head whipped over.

Daryl and Eric were sitting at Aaron's dinner table, plates of spaghetti in front of them. 

"O...oh." She felt a towel rub against Rory's mouth. "Sorry... continue with the spaghetti."

"What happened?" Daryl asked her, stepping into the kitchen area. She had looked down at the blood on the towel, and shook her head, trying to stop herself from crying again.

"I... um... Aiden came to the infirmary, drunk. He tried to... you know." She pointed to the blood. "I...bit him, and knocked him out. I should probably go out and check on him."

"No..." Aaron scoffed, grabbing her shoulders again before she could try and leave. He looked her in the eyes. "That asshole deserves a concussion. Didn't he slap you the other day too?" 

She nodded, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess."

"He did, not just you guess." Daryl retorted. She could see his hands clenched with anger, and she smiled.

"I'm fine, see?" She held her arms out and did a spin. "Nothing to be worried about. I really should make sure he's not dead. He's my friend."

"Some friends you have." Eric teased, and Rory shook her head.

"He's drunk, he doesn't-"

"He wasn't drunk when he slapped you." Daryl dropped a napkin down onto his table, downed the glass of wine he had, and adjusted his jacket. "I'll go with you." 

"Daryl-"

"I didn't suggest it, I'm tellin' you I'm coming with you." 

"Wait, before you guys go... I have something to ask Daryl." Aaron announced. Eric dropped his fork.

"You didn't ask him already?"

"Ask me what?"

Aaron gave a secretive smile and led them to his garage. When the lights turned on, there were tables full of parts, that Rory had no clue what they were a part of. She assumed it was a motorcycle when she saw one under a sheet.

"When I got the place, there was that frame, and some parts, and equipment. Whoever lived here built them."

"It's a lot of parts for one bike."

"Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. I always thought I'd learn how to do it, but I get the feeling you already know what to do with it." Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets. "And the thing is... you're going to need a bike." 

Daryl's hands ran across the parts and he looked up, eyes darting to Rory, and then to Aaron. "Why?"

"I told Deanna to not give you a job because I think I have one for you. I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore."

"You want me risking mine, right?" Daryl scoffed, turning his head to look at the tools hanging from the wall.

"Yeah, because you know what you're doing, you're good out there. But you don't belong out there."

Daryl grabbed the sheet that was covering the bike and peeked to look at it. Rory got closer to look at it too, completely confused about how any of it worked. However, she smiled at him. It was a good opportunity for him not to be an outcast, but to also be outside of it all.

"I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you, and I understand right now that you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person."

Daryl was silent for a moment, and then shrugged, biting his lip. "I got nothing else to do... thanks."

"Yeah." Aaron nodded.

"I'll get you some rabbits."

Aaron laughed. "Great. If you want, you can take that out for a test ride to see what's wrong with it around the neighborhood, but you don't have to."

"Nah, let's go get that friend of yours." Daryl touched Rory's shoulder and then pulled the sheet off of the bike. Aaron opened the garage, and he carefully wheeled the bike through to the driveway.

"It's two blocks away, Daryl." 

"I know." He shrugged, throwing his leg over the seat. He turned the bike on, and revved the engine. From the sound of it, there was definitely something wrong with the engine. He looked at her. "You comin' or not?" 

Her eyes rolled, but she sat behind him, her thighs pressed against his. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he drove off, towards the infirmary. It took them a single minute, and she could see Aiden leaning against the outside wall of the infirmary, his mouth bleeding. 

"Stay on the bike," Daryl ordered Rory.

"What?"

"I'm gonna talk to 'im." 

"Daryl-"

" _Stay_ on the bike."

Rory watched him get off and approach Aiden, who stumbled down the steps and smiled at him.

"You're...you're one of them, new dumbasses, huh?"

"Yup..." Daryl sighed, standing in front of him.

"Hey, lemme...lemme talk to Rory."

"You've done enough talking."

"Nuh-uh, lemme talk to her." He whined, walking towards Rory. "We were gettin' somewhere with all that." Aiden chuckled, winking at her.

Daryl's fist collided with Aiden's face seconds later, knocking him down. Rory wasn't surprised, though a little frustrated with Daryl. He leaned down and spoke something to Aiden that she couldn't really hear, and then helped him up, pushing him in the direction of the part. Aiden looked terrified, and Rory couldn't help but wonder what the hell that he had said to him. 

"Daryl-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm gonna get you home." 


	8. seven

They were running out of supplies. 

Rory knew that it would happen eventually. It had been a week since the party at Deanna's, and she could see that Deanna was regretting it. They had sacrificed too much food, too much gas to cook the food, and too much of their water. The infirmary, at some point, had run out of essential meds. Almost everyone in Alexandria had headaches, and it got rid of her basic painkillers quickly.

Rory was tired of it. She had gotten out of the shower, gotten dressed, and made a straight walk to Deanna's house, her hair still wet, banging on the door with force. She was still in her pajamas when she answered, her ginger hair pulled back in a scrunchie, the sun blinding her. She used her hands to shield her eyes, and see who was standing in front of her.

"Rory, what is it?"

"The power is out, and we need food, and medication."

"I'll talk to-"

"I don't care who you talk to, I'm going with them. Pete doesn't have the balls to go and get the medication himself and I'm the only one who knows what we need. I'm going." 

"But Pete-"

"I will drag Pete's ass out of bed myself if I must, to get him to go to his shift! Get a team together, whatever, I'll be waiting at the gates." 

And waiting at the gates is what she did, for almost an hour. She had even crossed paths with Daryl, who had fixed up the bike since the week that he had gotten it from Aaron. He didn't question what she was going to be doing, but regardless, he could see the backpack on her shoulders and the weapons on her body. He told her to be careful and left with Aaron's car behind her. She carried him off with a sarcastic salute.

Her team came not long after, pulling up in a large van. She noted that Aiden and Nicholas would be tagging along, but was glad that she also had Noah, Tara, Glenn, and Eugene were tagging along. They were the experienced ones, and they were the ones that Rory was hoping Deanna would ask to help.

She watched from afar as Glenn kissed Maggie goodbye, and as Aiden hugged his father. She had no one to say goodbye to, but a simple nod to Deanna as she climbed into the back of the van, next to Tara, Noah, and Eugene. 

Aiden turned on loud music to get the walkers away from the gate as they left, and it worked, making the group laugh. There was a separation from the back of the van to the front, so Tara nudged her and spoke in a low volume voice.

"Hey, I heard what happened with Aiden last week. Are you okay?"

Rory nodded with a smile. "Yeah... it wasn't his fault. He was drunk."

"Yeah," Noah scoffed. "The drink just poured down his throat on its own." 

"Guess so." Rory shrugged, and Noah shook his head.

"You're too nice for your own good."

"I've known him for a few months." She peered out of the blurring road from the window. "He's not like that. He just gets attached and then..." She sucked a breath in. "Unattached."

Maybe she was lying to herself, she wasn't sure, but she knew she didn't want to think Aiden was like that. He was so kind when she first showed up to Alexandria, and she wasn't sure what completely changed. 

She decided that she would try to steer clear of him, and she hoped he would do the same. It seemed that Daryl had scared him pretty good with whatever he had said, and she was starting to feel grateful about it.

They arrived at a warehouse Aiden had seen on his last run about five miles from Alexandria. The doors opened up, and Rory let her eyes get adjusted to the light again before hopping out of the van, Tara, Noah, and Eugene behind her. They pulled open the van and grabbed bags to carry supplies in.

"That's the warehouse." Aiden pointed to the large building in front of him, stating the obvious. "Looks like that door is our fastest way in and out."

"We should know all the exits first, so there's a plan if things go South."

"Already got one... it's called going out the front." Nicholas laughed, patting Aiden's shoulder. Rory's eyes rolled to look at Glenn, who was just as exasperated, both of them shaking their heads. Noah took down a walker as they prepared to go in.

"Look at you with the aim," Aiden stated while handing Rory a scoped rifle, without looking at her. "Glenn's right, we should do a perimeter check, know our exits just in case."

They all nodded and split up, Rory going with Glenn and Noah to check the right side, and the rest going with Tara and Eugene. 

"It was good aim back there," Glenn said to Noah.

"Target practice helped," Noah stated. "Actually, last week, I was pretty close to practicing on Aiden.

"I think Glenn and I can both relate to that." Rory laughed, pushing him lightly. 

Rory pulled out her knife as a few walkers approached, but then they realized that those few walkers weren't the problem. After taking them down, they could see that there was a fence behind the warehouse, and there were at least fifty walkers inside the fences.

"Well, we're not getting out the front."

They met the rest of the group back at the door of the warehouse and explained what was on the other side and that they couldn't get through that way. They all decided that the door was to be the only exit, and Glenn worked on opening it up, using bolt cutters they had bought to break the chain off of the lock. Once the door was open, he banged on the wall, to draw out any walkers lurking in the darkness. Rory had her gun at the ready, just in case.

Aiden tried to walk in, and Glenn held his hand up. "Give it another second. It's a big place. There could be some inside."

"So let's say they are. Let's move, let's be safe." 

Glenn nodded. "Alright."

Rory followed Glenn, who was holding a flashlight, and the rest of the team followed behind. He assigned each of them an aisle, and they walked through slowly, making sure no walkers were to be found and met up at the end of the aisles. They could hear metal clanking in the distance, and the snarl of walkers. 

"They're stuck behind something." 

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But they aren't here. Let's go. Eyes up."

They walked until they reached a metal cage, finding an insurmountable amount of walkers pressing against it. 

"Clear." Glenn sighed out, watching the walkers scratch against the sturdy metal. Aiden looked at him, impressed.

"You know your stuff."

"We were out there for a long time."

"There are probably more, so let's not move like snails," Rory stated, on her way to search through the aisles for supplies, turning on her own flashlight, while the rest looked for energy converters to get the power back on. 

She found the medication in the last aisle of the warehouse, piled in boxes. She filled her bag with every box that contained pain medication, meds for seizures, and sleeping pills. She returned to Glenn with a grin on her face, showing the bag to him.

"Nice goin', Rory!" He patted her back and then showed that they had found the convertors. They were interrupted in their rejoice at the sound of a bullet going off, and both of them turned, watching Aiden shoot at a walker, one dressed in complete military gear. The bullet wasn't getting through to its head because of the protection on it. 

"It's got armor," Glenn called to Aiden. "Let it come closer."

"I got it."

He tried to shoot a few more times, and Rory's eyes traveled down the body of the walker. She realized that there was something hooked to its belt, a grenade. 

"Aiden,"

"I got it." He shot at the walkers' chest instead, and then lower, and what Rory dreaded Aiden was going to do became fulfilled. She pulled Glenn to the floor behind a shelf with her as the explosion went off, smoke filling the air. It sent the shelf behind them falling to the floor, and Eugene and Tara flying backward. 

Everyone was coughing, and Glenn stood, helping Rory stand.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, though her head was pounding. She could hear Eugene panicking in her left ear, but all she heard was ringing in her right. Then her head turned, and she felt like she couldn't hear anything at all from the trauma of what was in front of her eyes.

Aiden was impaled on something sharp sticking out of the wall. She couldn't see what it was, but it made her want to pass out, and she tried to run to him, but Glenn was holding her back.

"I need to get him off!" She yelled at him, scratching at his hands coming around her waist.

"You need to be quiet, Rory, the cage is open. He's gone."

"No...no.."

"He's gone, Rory, come on, this way," He whispered into her ear, pulling his hand over her mouth and leading her to behind a shelf where Eugene had been calling them. A large shelf that had knocked over kept them separated. Noah was right behind them, and they could see Tara on the ground, blood pooling from her head, blocked off from the rest of the group. She must have hit something from the blast.

"Is she breathing? Eugene!"

"I can't tell from right here."

"They're getting close!" Nicholas yelled from afar, but they couldn't hear where he was.

"Walker!" Eugene yelled out as one came toward him.

"Eugene, it's yours, take it out." 

Rory couldn't see anything. All she wanted to do was go back to Aiden. She had failed Deanna, she had failed him. She felt tears fill her eyes as Noah led her towards in office in the back of the warehouse, while Glenn tried to retrieve Tara. 

The entire group reunited there, and Glenn brought Tara's body to a table in the office room. Eugene began to examine her, while Rory tried to see from the window where Aiden was, and if he was still alive.

"She has serious blood trauma. She's losing blood fast." Eugene stated.

"How do we stop it?"

"Med kit was in Aiden's pack. It got blown to hell."

"There's another one in the van. Rory?"

"I don't have a medkit." She searched through her bag, shaking her head. "Just medication." Her eyes traveled down to Tara, and she walked toward her, bringing her ear down to her mouth. Tara's breathing was slowing down.

"We have to get her out of here or she's going to die."

"We'll get her home." Glenn nodded, about to pick her up.

"HELP! SOMEBODY!" 

That voice of pain sent shivers down Rory's spine, and she ran to the window, unable to see Aiden, but she knew it was him.

"He's alive?!"

"I checked him." Nicholas stammered. "I-I thought... we've got to get him."

"It's gonna take at least three of us."

"We got that kind of time?" Noah asked Eugene.

Nicholas shook his head. "We pull Aiden off there and we could kill him."

"So you're saying we leave him?" Rory pushed her friend, gritting her teeth. "WE CAN'T! You're a coward!" 

"Go, save him. She'd do it," Eugene looked down at Tara. "I know she would. I'll stay with her, I'll keep her safe, I assure you. I will."

"Alright, Rory, and I will knock 'em back." Glenn pointed to Nicholas. "You still have that flare? You fire the flare over the shelves, that'll draw some of them over. We're gonna hit the rest hand to hand."

Walker surrounded the office room. Rory pulled her knife out, shaking her arms. She wasn't going to let that be the way Aiden died. 

"Ready? One..two..three!" Glenn's shoulder hit against the door, and he pushed it open, calling after them. Rory couldn't feel her limbs as she attacked the walkers, making her way towards Aiden. The flare drew most of them away, but the ones who didn't felt the wrath of her blade, and she could feel their blood splattering onto her face. 

She kicked, and punched them down, screaming with every kill, until they reached Aiden, and she became small again. He was crying, like a child, and she could see that it was a piece of broken, rusted shelf that had impaled him, straight through his stomach and shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay," Glenn whispered to him. "We're gonna get you out of here. Alright, everything's gonna be okay."

Rory came up to him and could see in his eyes that he was delusional. She put her hands on his face.

"Aiden? We need you to stay quiet, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Aiden nodded frantically, and on three, they tried to pull him off. He let out a bone curling scream. Noah turned to look at them.

"The flare is burning out."

"Come on, Aiden," She smiled at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "One more time, okay? We'll try again." 

"We're not going to make this," Nicholas whined and Glenn grabbed him.

"Yes we are, but I need your help, you can do this."

"Nick...Nick... Rory..." His eyes were fluttering. "Don't...Don't leave me."

"We're not!" Rory cried out. "Okay, again." She could hear Noah firing at walkers behind them. They tried to pull him again, but he was stuck. Rory let out a cry, pulling away from him, as Nicholas frantically apologized to him. 

Rory grabbed onto Aiden's shoulders, about to try again, but he put his bleeding hand on her face.

"No... just go. You need to live... Rory."

"No," Her eyes squeezed shut. "I'm not leaving you."

"I'm sorry... for hurting you. I'm so sorry. I just thought you were pulling away and...I..." His eyes looked up at the walkers coming, and with all of the strength that he had left, he pushed her into to Glenn and screamed at them to run. 

Glenn pulled Rory along, and the sound of Aiden's screams as the walkers bit and dug into him made vomit rise into her throat. Her legs felt like they wouldn't work, but Glenn dragged her with all his strength, as Eugene yelled that they had found another exit, at the entrance of the warehouse, where they thought they wouldn't be able to leave. 

They had run out of ammo, and they were almost out of energy. They found themselves inside of a revolving door, surrounded by walkers, completely unsure what to do. Nicholas was stuck on one side, Noah in another, and Glenn and Rory were squeezed together in one tight space. The only thing stopping the walkers from getting in where their hands pushing together on the door, stopping it from revolving.

Rory got down on her knees, using her feet as doorstops, as well as her hands. She couldn't lose anyone else. This was her fault, she had called for the supply run. She couldn't just let them die like she did Aiden. 

"What do we do?" Noah yelled through the glass, and Glenn looked around, utterly clueless, and then he heard the music. 

Eugene was in the van with Tara, honking the horn, leading the walkers away. 

"Come on, Eugene!" Glenn cheered, though there were still walkers trying to get to them. He turned to Nicholas and Noah.

"I need you both to keep the door steady, alright? I'm gonna break the glass. We get out, you push out. We get the rifle, and we're good."

Glenn began to push the butt of the rifle against the glass, and Noah pushed on his side, sliding through to get to Glenn and Rory. Nicholas tried to push, but then stopped, seeing the walkers on the other side.

"It's not safe! It's not gonna break!"

"It will! We can hold it! We can!"

"Trust me, okay?" Glenn asked Nicholas. "Count of three, one... two..."

Nicholas had betrayed them, pushing on the wrong side of the door to get outside instead of to them. That caused the other side to open, and the walkers to get to them. They grabbed onto Noah, and Rory tried to grab him, but he was pulled through, pressed against the glass, and tore into. Both Glenn and Rory were frozen as blood coated the window until they couldn't see him anymore, and just hear the squelching of his death.

"We have to go..." Glenn told her, helping her stand. "We have to live for him. We're not dying here!" 

He grabbed onto her, and they pushed through the glass of the revolving doors. Rory used her knife to take out every walker that she could until they found a chair that could keep the revolving doors stuck for enough time for them to get out. 

They were just in time to reach the van, as Nicholas begged Eugene to leave. Glenn ran to him, knocking him out.

"Help me get him in the back." Glenn rasped out.

"Where's Noah?" Eugene questioned as Rory tried to wipe Aiden's blood off of her face. Glenn stopped breathing for a moment, trying to hold back a cry and gestured for Rory to help him. They lifted Nicholas up by his hands and feet and carried him to the back of the van, lying him down carelessly.

He was a coward. He was everything Rory despised. Everything that Glenn, Noah, and Tara weren't. She couldn't think as they drove back to Alexandria, her fingers picking carelessly at the blood covering her hands, but it wouldn't come off. She wanted to throw up, or scream, or stab herself in the chest, but all she could do was sit there.

She was completely useless. It was her fault they were dead, and that Glenn's group would be mourning a loss. 

It was always her fault.


	9. eight

Rory's face was caked in blood.

She didn't care. She sat on the porch of her house, letting her sweat mix with it and drip onto the white. 

Her fault. It was her fault. If she hadn't bothered Deanna about the electricity, maybe they would have waited another day. If she stayed out of it, maybe it would have been different.

Deanna wouldn't be sobbing at her house with her husband and second son, and she wouldn't feel so guilty about it all.

Rory sat there for hours, and everyone let her, even as the sun went down. She hadn't moved an inch. All she did was blink, and sniff, and hold back vomit. She wanted to pull her hair out of her scalp.

It was Rick who finally found her on the steps, and he helped her stand, getting her into her house. He sat her down at her own kitchen counter and grabbed multiple dish rags. He had her look up at him, and he began to wipe the blood off of her face.

"Whose blood is it?" He asked her as he worked, eyebrows knitted together.

"Aiden's."

"Glenn told me what happened. You tried to save him, after what he did to you. You helped Glenn try to save Noah... I really appreciate it."

"It's my fault." She told him.

"What?"

"It is."

He moved the rag down her neck. 

"I... I bothered her first thing in the morning about going on a run, it's my fault. Maybe Aiden wouldn't have been awake and had thought about the warehouse, we would have gone somewhere else-"

"Breathe." Rick interrupted. "It isn't your fault. You're not like those cowards, like _Nicholas_. You _try_." 

He used another clean rag to get her hands, and she was silent. All she could see when she closed her eyes was red. 

"What happened with Noah?" He asked quietly, turning her hands over so her palms faced upward, and he could wipe them down.

"Death must be so beautiful." She muttered.

"What?"

" _Death must be so beautiful... To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to the silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace._ "

Rick's frown slowly turned soft, and he stopped wiping the blood off her, opting to sit next to her at the counter.

"What's that?"

"Sylvia Plath. The Bell Jar. My mother used to read it to me." She looked up him, her eyes almost bloodshot. "That's what death is supposed to be. Six feet down under, eternal peace. But they're-" 

"It isn't your fault, Rory. I know what Nicholas did, it's okay. I just need you to tell me, so both you and Glenn can vouch when I come to Deanna about this." 

"Aiden shot a walker that had a grenade on its belt, and it blew up, sending him flying into a sharp, rusted piece of a metal shelf." She explained. "I tried to get him off, we all did, but he pushed me into Glenn and told us to run. We all got stuck in revolving doors, and Nicholas pushed himself out, resulting in the walkers getting to Noah."

She tried not to blink. Every time she did, all she could see was his body getting devoured.

"That's all that happened."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." He murmured, threading his hands together, and looking away. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry too. I know you think it isn't my fault, but I'm just... I'm sorry. About all of it."

"I think we're all sorry about a lot these days."

Rick left her with the order that she showered and went straight to bed, which is what she did, though when her head hit the pillow, she couldn't sleep. She stared at the ceiling, and then the clock, and then her own hands. She felt like she was outside of her body, still at the warehouse. It was as if her soul had died there.

The only thing she could feel was remorse. It didn't matter what they said.

She hadn't even grabbed her weapons the next morning for work. She had just pulled on jeans and a baggy sweater and walked to the infirmary at snail's pace. Her back was killing her. It seemed the grenade's impact had taken a bigger toll than she thought. 

She took painkillers once she got to the infirmary, seeing that someone had stocked up what she had gotten from the warehouse for her. 

The only people in there was Tara, and Eugene, who hadn't left her side since the blast happened. Eugene watched her as she changed Tara's bandage on her head, and switched out her IV bag. 

She could see in Eugene's saddened face and pouty lips that he felt guilty. He didn't look at Tara, he just stared at the ground.

"You're not a coward, you know. You saved her life."

"I can barely kill a single walker."

"Nicholas left us to die. That's what you call a coward. Not you." She told him, pulling the covers over Tara more. "You've been out there, you've seen it."

"That was the first walker I killed. At the warehouse."

"Well, then it's a start." She smiled at him, returning to the counter to wait for other patients. Eugene fell asleep not long after speaking to him, and she wished she could do the same.

She wondered where Daryl and Aaron were, and she hoped they were safe. She knew they would have each other's back like Glenn had her back. 

As if on cue of thinking of him, Glenn came walking in through the infirmary, flowers in his hands. He gave a solemn smile to Rory, and set the vase down on a table next to Tara, squeezing Tara's hand for just a moment before walking over to the ' _nurse'_.

"Rick talk to you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he got me out of my catatonic state."

Glenn chuckled and then tapped against the counter. "Hey, you have any painkillers? I'm getting a headache from the grenade going off right by my ear."

She nodded, turning around and grabbing a bottle of mild painkillers, sliding them across the counter to him. 

As he started to leave, she called out his name, walked around the counter, and wrapped her arms around him. 

"You... you okay?" He asked.

"No," She spoke into his shoulder. "Just... thank you." 

"For what?"

"If you had let me, I would have died there with Aiden trying to pull him off." 

Glenn froze, and then patted her shoulder. "I uh... you're welcome." 

She pulled away, straightening out her sweater. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. I haven't had someone thank me for a really long time, it felt good. I'll see you around, Rory. I'm gonna go talk to Nicholas." 

She nodded, feeling fear rise up her spine for him when he mentioned Nicholas's name, but she was glad he was going to go talk to him. She definitely didn't have the balls to do it, and she knew Glenn would put him in his place, and tell him to stay inside the walls, or someone else would get hurt. 

Her shift ended around the time of lunch, though, of course, she had to stay longer because Pete was also insufferably late. By the time she was leaving, the sun had turned golden, and though she hadn't eaten anything yet in the day, she didn't think she could really stomach anything. 

She walked by the houses, listening to the kids laugh and play in their yards, and tried to memorize every sound. She tried to remember that Alexandria was going to be something more, as long as Rick was there. She just couldn't help but think that as long as there would be runs, there would always be someone who was going to die. It didn't matter if there was a run-in with people or walkers, it was eventually going to happen, and it terrified her. 

"Hey!"

Rory heard a yell from behind her on the street, and though she thought it was directed towards her, she felt someone push past her shoulders and knock her to the ground, along with themselves, and then Rick was running past her, blood covering his face. She turned to stand up, seeing Rick straddling the man, and as she got closer, she could see the man was Pete.

"Rick!" Rory yelled, but it was no use. Jessie, Pete's husband, was crying in the street, and Rory came to her. Jessie ran into her arms.

"I don't know how to get them to stop, I don't know-" 

Deanna had come out, screaming at them to stop, as Rick nearly had him in a chokehold. 

"Stop it right now." 

Rory heard Rick whisper something to Pete, about touching Jessie again, and he would kill him. Rory pulled away from Jessie and looked her in the eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Jessie shook her head, clinging to Rory again. 

"Damn it, Rick! I said stop it!"

Some of the men of Alexandria began to walk towards Rick, but Rick was faster, pulling a gun from his jacket and holding it up.

"Or what? You gonna kick me out?"

"Put that gun down, Rick." 

He kneeled down, chuckling. 

"You still don't get it. None of you do. We know what needs to be done, and we do it. We're the ones who live." He pointed to Carl, and to Rory, who was trying to make herself smaller as she held onto Jessie.

"You just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't. You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done. Things don't get better because you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world."

Rory nodded along to his words. He was right, and this was the time to say it; when Deanna was actually listening

"We have to control who lives here."

Deanna's lips formed a straight line. "That's never been more clear to me than it is right now."

"Me? Me? You... you mean me. Your way is gonna destroy this place! It's gonna get people killed. It's already gotten people killed, and I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. _If you don't fight, you die_. I'm not gonna stand by and-"

In a matter of seconds, Michonne was running up to Rick, and bringing her fist up to the side of his face, knocking him out. Rory understood why she did it, but she still couldn't get those words out of her head.

_If you don't fight, you die._

_If you don't fight, you die._

_If you don't fight, you die._

That was the whole mantra of the new world, as far as she was concerned. You couldn't sit and do nothing anymore, that wasn't how it worked.

Everyone who hid in Alexandria was absolute idiots. Those who didn't teach the children how to fight were idiots. They needed to be teaching this at a young age, or they would be clueless. 

Rory left to her house after that, unable to look at Rick's bleeding face any longer. Deanna called to speak to her, but she didn't turn. She didn't care. Nothing that she said mattered. She took this frustration out on her house. She knocked over all the books on her mantlepiece, she pushed the dining table and chairs over, chucked the pillows across the room, and even ripped up a few books, her head hot and her fingertips on fire. 

She fell down to her knees in the middle of the room, and punched the floor, not caring if her hand broke, not caring that her blood smeared against the wood. 

All while she did this, she wondered where Daryl was. She wondered where his kind eyes were, and how since he had been there she had been able to calm down when she needed to.

She missed him, though she didn't like to admit it.

As Rory got up, about to organize her house back into order, an envelope slipped under her door, addressed to her in elegant, cursive writing. She crossed the room and picked it up with her bleeding knuckles, opening and unfolding it to reveal an invitation.

_Secret meeting: Addressing Rick. The middle of town tomorrow, sundown._


	10. nine

_I don't mind the sun sometimes, the image that it shows. I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes. Cinnamon and sugary, and softly spoken lies. You never know just how you look through other people's eyes._

**_Pepper - Butthole Surfers_ **

****

The citizens met in the middle of town, all of their faces illustrated with knit together eyebrows and fine lines for mouths. 

Rory's knuckles were still smeared with blood as she sat against a brick gate next to where Deanna stood. The group surrounded an open fire, so close to Mary that she could feel it almost burn. 

Deanna watched over her people, almost with a small smile, one that Rory wanted to slap off of her. 

Instead, Rory shoved her hands into her pockets and watched Deanna address the chattering group.

"We're going to start."

"Can we wait?" Maggie turned to ask her. "There's still people coming. Glenn. Rick."

Rory could tell she was nervous they would be kicked out. She remembered hearing that Maggie was pregnant. This was probably her only hope. 

"We're going to start. It's already dark." She told Maggie. Her eyes looked over the rest of the group, Eugene, Carol, Abraham, Michonne, Jessie. "We're going to talk about what happened. Not the fight, not what precipitated it. We're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people."

Her head turned and glanced at Rory.

"We're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here."

"She said he's coming." Michonne retorted. Carol turned.

"I'm sure he'll be here," Carol grinned, and Rory knew it was fake. "And I'm sure we can work this all out." 

She almost wanted to laugh at how Carol had them under her thumb. 

"Who would like to start?"

The group was silent. Rory cleared her throat and stood up, crossing her arms, ready to finally say something to people who would listen.

"I was out there for four years before I came here." She announced, looking down at her boots. "Rick is right. If you don't fight, you die. I can't stop hearing it in my head. If it's not walkers, it's a disease, if it's not a disease, it's people coming to kill you. I've seen it all in my travels. I almost got stabbed in the face while I slept out there."

She looked up.

"While I slept. Because someone wanted one," She held up a finger. "One can of soup from my bag. We can't be pussies anymore. Eventually, someone is going to be after us."

Michonne nodded rapidly, smiling at Rory like there was finally someone in this crazy, ignorant town who understood. "Yes, and after being out there and then not being how you were out there drives you crazy. Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of you to live. Who he is... is who you're gonna be... if you're lucky." 

Deanna nodded. "Thank you, Michonne. That's very... insightful. Does anyone else wish to speak?"

Carol held up a shy hand and nodded, standing up, a big coat wrapped around her. "If that's alright?"

"Go ahead, Carol."

Carol cleared her throat and looked out at them. "Rick Grimes saved my life over and over. There are terrifying people out there, and he rescued me from them. People like me, people like us... need people like him. I know what happened last night was scary, and I'm sure he's sorry for that, but maybe we should listen to what he's saying."

Rory nodded. "We do need to. Not just we should. Nobody out here does shit." 

"There is no need to get hostile."

"But I'm right." 

"I think what the lady is getting at," Abraham cleared his throat, scratching his scalp through his red head of hair. "There is a vast ocean of shit you people don't know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit... and then some."

Rory felt a smile grow on her face and Abraham returned it. 

"My father respected Rick Grimes." Maggie started. "Rick is a father, too. He's a man with a good heart who feels the things he does, the things he has to do, and all of us who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we're a family now. Rick started that, and you won't stop it. You can't, and you don't want to. This community... you people, that family, you want to be a part of it too." 

It seemed that some of it might have gotten through to Deanna, but she tried not to show it, nodding to Maggie's words before stepping forward.

"Before we hear from anyone else, I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency. Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted, that they were dangerous, that they would put themselves before this community, and not one day later, Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things Father Gabriel said. I hoped he would be here tonight."

"I don't see him here, Deanna," Jessie announced. "So you're just saying what someone said. Did you tape him?"

"He's not here."

"Neither is Rick." Deanna retorted, frustrated. Rory watched Maggie's eyes fill with tears and frustration, and she shook her head, walking off.

"Excuse me."

Tobin, one of the regular gate guards, stood up. "I just wanna keep my family safe, you know? And I don't even know what that means anymore, but if it means that we've got to get rid of..."

Tobin's voice trailed off, and his eyes widened at the sight of something ahead of him. Rory turned her eyes to see Rick barreling towards the group, a body in his arms. It was a walker, and he dropped in the middle of them, blood covering his face. He took a deep breath.

"There wasn't a guard on the gate, it was open."

Deanna turned to look at her older son, Spencer, who was responsible for this. He stuttered over his words.

"I asked Gabriel to-"

"Go," Deanna ordered, and Spencer ran off to watch the gate.

"I didn't bring it in, it got inside on its own. They always will, the dead and the living, because we're in here." Rick explained, moving around the fire. "And the ones out there... they'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us, they'll try to kill us, but we'll kill them. We'll survive. I'll show you how. You know..."

He scratched his nose. 

"I was thinkin'... how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives? But I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change. I'm not sorry for what I said last night, I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready but you have to be. Right now... you have to be." 

He held his arms out, defeated.

"Luck runs out." 

"You're not one of us!" A voice at the brick gate started, and as he stepped out of the darkness, they could see it was Pete. "You're not one of us!" 

"Pete you don't wanna do this." Deanna's husband held his hands out for Pete. 

"Get the hell away from me, Reg."

He was brandishing Michonne's katana, and why she wasn't sure. 

"Pete-"

"Get away!" Pete pushed Reg again, and the blade ran across his neck. Deanna let out a scream, grabbing onto her bleeding husband. The group gasped, some of them running, but Rory was frozen in place. Abraham tackled Pete to the ground easily, throwing the blade aside. 

Pete was dying, there was nothing Rory could do about it. No stitches could stop it. 

"This is him!" Pete yelled. "It's him!" 

Deanna looked up at Rick with tear-filled eyes.

"Rick... do it."

Rory felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped turning to see that Daryl was standing behind her. He quickly grabbed onto her hand as Rick put a bullet in between Pete's eyes, but she barely even flinched, her hand squeezing his for but a second. 

Then, after Pete was dead, he was pulling her away from the group by her hand, to over by the infirmary.

"What the hell is going on?"

"People want you guys gone, Rick proved them wrong." She explained simply, and then pushed him. "Where the hell have you been? You were gone..." She scoffed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. "You were gone for way longer than you were supposed to be."

She felt his hand on her back for a moment, and then he pulled back.

"We got trapped in a car. That guy..." He pointed to a man by the group, who was hugging Rick. "He got us out. Looks like they know each other."

Rory wasn't paying attention to that, she was just paying attention to Daryl. His eyes turned from Rick and the man and back at her. 

"What're you lookin' at me like that for?" 

"I'm just wondering... have you eaten today?" 

Daryl's mouth fell closed and he looked down, shaking his head. She grabbed his arm, linking them together, about to pull him towards her house, but she was distracted by the sound of the gate opening. She could see Glenn through the lights near the gate, helping someone walk who was injured.

She looked up at Daryl. "Do you have food at your house?"

He shook his head. She reached into her pocket and placed a key into his palm, the key to her place, and patted his shoulder. "Knock yourself out with anything in there, I'll be back in a few." 

Once Daryl was situated and convinced to go to her house, she ran to Glenn, who was struggling to hold whoever he was holding up. As she got closer, she could see that it was Nicholas. Blood was dripping down both of their faces.

"Jesus, Glenn, what happened?"

"It was just walkers." He swallowed. Rory put Nicholas's other arm around hers, taking some of the weight, and helped them walk to the infirmary. When they made it, they could see that Rosita was inside, tending to Tara, who was awake. 

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"We're-" Nicholas started, but Rory ordered him to sit down. 

"I'm okay," Glenn announced.

"You guys look like shit," Tara said quietly, and Glenn turned his head to look at her, only just then noticing that she was awake. He looked at Rosita.

"She's fine. She's okay."

"Tara?"

Tara nodded. "I'm okay."

"Rosita, there's a clipboard on Tara's bed. Could you check her vitals and write down everything while I check on these guys?" 

Rosita nodded, and Rory got to work on wiping the blood off of Nicholas's face to reveal any cuts. Maggie had come in, completely distraught at the sight of her husband.

"What happened?" She asked, darting over to Glenn. 

"We were out there... the walkers... and... we're alright. Got winged by a ricochet."

"Holy shit." Eugene had just come in through the door to see Tara awake and rushed to her bed. He must have only just left and come back because Rory had remembered him rarely leaving her side. Tara smiled.

"Thank God, nothing happened to your hair." Tara smiled, leaning her head against the wall. Eugene said nothing, a simple smile on his face. "Okay, Eugene's freaking me out. Somebody want to send Noah in here to protect me?"

Rory felt her heart drop, and she became slower as she wiped the blood from Nicholas's face. Glenn looked down, holding onto his wife.

"Tara, Noah didn't... He didn't make it out of the warehouse."

"No-" Tara's eyes softened, glistening with tears. She shook her head. "N...no." 

As Rory continued to help Nicholas, she pressed a little harder onto his cuts than she should have. It had taken about an hour to patch both him and Glenn up with the help of Rosita and Eugene, but it would have taken a lot longer without them. She double-checked with Tara, who seemed to be okay to leave within the next few days, and was finally returning home, unable to feel her legs.

She had expected Daryl to be gone by the time she was there, but when she walked inside her house and kicked off her boots, he was asleep in the spot she was usually asleep in, an empty can of peaches sitting on the coffee table in front of him, along with a half-eaten bag of tortilla chips, and some grapes. 

His face was peaceful when he slept. His eyebrows weren't furrowed, and he wasn't frowning. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, and his shoulders were loose, his hair falling in the front of his face and over his eyes.

It made Rory smile. 

She put the excess food away, and quietly stepped upstairs, changing out of her clothes and into pajamas. She grabbed two blankets, shooting a glance at her bed, that she had only slept in a few times.

She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve a comfortable bed in the situation she was in. 

Rory trotted back downstairs, and threw a blanket gently over Daryl's shoulders down to his feet, and then wrapped a blanket around herself, turning the lights off and situating herself in an armchair across from the couch, her legs tucked underneath her.

Though it wasn't a very comfortable way to sleep, the sound of Daryl's rhythmic breathing was enough to make her feel safe, and she could feel her eyes flutter as she listened to him.

When she woke up the next morning, she realized; it was the first night she had slept for a while without nightmares.


	11. ten

_There she is._

It's what Daryl was thinking as he woke up on her couch, a blanket draped over him that he hadn't remembered grabbing. He had thought she was upstairs, in her bedroom, and then she heard a little snore and a whimper.

She was across from him, her body folded in what looked to be an uncomfortable position in an armchair.

The sun was just coming up over the windowsill, and usually, Daryl would be leaving, but something made him not want to. He brought his knees to his chest and listened to the birds chirping outside of her windows. He would glance at her from time to time; her parted lips, her disheveled but completely wonderful hair, and the fuzzy socks that donned her feet like she was a child. There was sort of innocence that graced her face, but occasionally, it would be taken over with fear, her eyebrows twitching and the corners of her lips tilting down.

Nevertheless, _there she is_.

It hadn't taken long for Daryl to notice how much of a bright light Rory was. The way she said his full name, _Daryl Dixon_ , gave him a feeling he couldn't describe. He had known from the moment she had grinned at him at the bar that he was something different, but it wasn't until he had seen her for the second time outside the gate, and she had wrapped her arms around him, how much he had missed the feeling that she gave him. It wasn't until she had touched him again that he had realized he hadn't truly been touched in nearly four or five years. It wasn't a new feeling, but it was a feeling that he had missed desperately.

She wasn't afraid to touch him, and he wasn't afraid to touch her.

He had known so many in his life. Maggie, Beth, Michonne, Rosita, Tara.

The touches of their fingertips didn't send shivers down her spine as Rory did. He didn't know what it was.

The thoughts of his infatuation were broken by the sound of a light knock on her front door, and Daryl cursed under his breath, his head turning to Rory. She barely even let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttering for a moment before she fell back into a deeper sleep. Daryl carefully got up from the couch and almost tiptoed to the front door, opening it to reveal Michonne, a katana strapped to her back.

"You are not who I was expecting to see." Michonne shot a toothy grin at him. "Daryl Dixon, what are you doing in a girls' house this early in the morning?"

Daryl glared at her and stepped outside onto the porch, closing the door behind him. "What is it? She's asleep."

"Daryl... what are you doing at Rory's?" Michonne teased again, leaning against the wall. "Did you-"

"Shut up." He scoffed, trying not to smile. "She gave me food and I fell asleep here, while she was at the infirmary. That's it. Now, _what do you want_?"

"Rick wants to do a dry run with some of the citizens in a few hours. I was going to ask if she wanted to come and help train."

"Wouldn't she be at the infirmary?"

"Deanna is having a new girl come in, who was in school for a few more years than Rory."

"She'll be glad to hear that." Daryl nodded.

Michonne smiled, pushing herself off of the wall and stepping down the porch. "I'll just add your girlfriend to your team, then."

"She's not-"

"Don't ruin the joke, Dixon," Michonne called as she walked off. "Just meet us at the gate at nine o'clock sharp! Don't be late."

Daryl shook his head at his friend and walked back inside the house, to see that Rory was no awake, and in the kitchen. A blanket still draped over her shoulders as she brewed a pot of coffee, and she smiled sleepily at him, her eyes still barely open.

"Good morning."

"Mornin'." He stepped forward a bit. "That was Michonne."

"I saw. What did she want?"

"There's a run with some of Alexandria at nine. She wants you to come and be on my team. There's someone taking over the infirmary for you."

"Ah," She grabbed the freshly brewed pot of coffee from the machine and poured it into two mugs. "Denise. She doesn't know what the fuck she's doing when it comes to any major injuries but she'll be fine attending to Tara."

"Michonne said she was in school longer than you."

"Yeah," She ran her finger around the lip of her mug. "In psychiatry."

"That's different."

"Daryl, my dear," She handed him a mug of steaming black coffee. "You would be right, but psychiatrists take medical school before psychiatry training so perhaps she is better than me. I wouldn't mind."

Daryl took a sip out of the bitter drink. He hadn't had coffee in years, and he wasn't really that much of a fan of it, but she made it, so he would drink it. He watched how she barely drank hers, and just held the warmth in her hands, bringing the steam close to her face with a calm smile.

_There she is._

It felt domestic. It was an uncomfortable, confusing feeling, but he wanted more of it.

However, he needed to get ready if they were going on a run. He downed the coffee as quickly as possible, and thanked her for the food, telling her that he would come back an hour and a half later, and they would go on the run on his bike.

By the time he had returned to his place and gotten dressed and equipped, he realized that everyone was congregating to Deanna's house and that something must have gone wrong. He grabbed his bike and wheeled it in that direction, seeing that Rory was already on her way there, his crossbow on her shoulder. He must have left it there.

He caught up to her.

"What's going on?"

"One of them found something that's concerning at a quarry a little bit from here." She explained as he propped his bike up. She handed him his crossbow, and he examined how she had dressed for the run. She wore shorts with her regular boots, and a button-up t-shirt, almost like what Beth used to wear. Her knife and gun were with her, as always, and he could see a box of ammo sticking out of her pocket.

They walked into Deanna's house to see half of Alexandria inside, and Heath, one of the Alexandrian's, was standing in the middle. Heath was smarter than a lot of the people there. Rory had told Daryl that at some point. He was on par with Rory, though he still had a lot to learn.

"I saw something on a run," Heath announced once everything was inside. "A quarry. My team... we saw it early on, back when we were on one of those first scouts, finding out what was around here. There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exits with one of those trucks back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it, they were all roamers, maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie questioned, sitting down next to Sasha on the couch.

"DC, every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction, and I never really felt like having a picnic next to a camp that ate itself."

"So all the while, the walkers have been drawn by the sound and they're making more sound and they're drawing more in."

Daryl wanted to curse. This would be a problem for the camp if that quarry became overpopulated, and they started coming towards Alexandria.

"And here we are." Rick let out. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. "One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now, maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east, all of them, right at us."

Great, Daryl was right. He felt Rory tense up next to her, her shoulder brushing his every time her feet shifted.

"This isn't about _if_ it gives, it's _when_. It's gonna happen, that's why we have to do this soon."

"This is... I don't even have another word for it." Carol interrupted, turning on her scared persona. It was something she put on to convince others to get on board with it. "This is terrifying, all of it. But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

"Maybe there is," Tobin suggested. "I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans, I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew... we can try and make it safe."

"Building up exits won't change the walkers drawing in more sound to them... leading more walkers to them. They'll still start to head east whether we like it or not." Rory announced, her eyes narrowing at Tobin. Rick nodded.

"She's right."

Deanna, standing at her window, didn't even turn as she spoke to her people. "We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out."

Rick nodded with a slight smile at his authority. "We're gonna have Daryl and Rory lead them away."

"Me too," Sasha said. "I'll take a car, ride next to them. I"ll keep 'em coming, Daryl and Rory keep 'em from getting sloppy."

"I'll go with her," Abraham added. "It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

"We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they're out. Who's in?"

People started to announce that they were coming, and Daryl shot a glance at Rory, to see that she was smiling. He could tell that she was happy people were speaking up, even if Rick rejected some of them from helping, giving them another task.

"We can't just control that many."

"I said it before, walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we can get 'em all at once."

"So what," Carter, a member of the construction team, scoffed. "We're supposed to take your word for it? We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you after... after what? You wave a gun around screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face, after you-"

  
"Enough!" Deanna finally turned to face him.

More people began to announce their complacency to help, even Nicholas, who Daryl could see as one of the biggest cowards he had ever seen after Rick had told Daryl what happened with Glenn and Rory.

The plan was decided, and they were leaving minutes later, Rory on the back of Daryl's bike, her arms wrapped around him.

The plan was to force the walkers west from the camp and block the area so they could only go one direction that was away from them. They would use RVs and trucks and park them in a long line to keep them from moving and drawing them away. Carter would build up walls to keep the line from breaking.

Daryl and Rory's job was to simply get them there,

Rory and Daryl on their bike, and Sasha and Abraham in the car, were the first to leave, taking directions from Heath of where the quarry started. Rick spoke to other teams on the walkie as they made it towards where the quarry was. They could hear the flares of people getting the walker's attention behind them, to draw them towards the noise, and soon, there were heard of walkers following Rory and Daryl down the road.

Previously, cars had been lined up alongside the road to keep the walkers from going any other direction, and it kept them moving in a straight line. Rory moved her hand from Daryl's waist to her shoulders, looking back at the large group, maybe even hundreds of them, not even fifty feet away. Sasha and Abraham's car drove right in front of them, making sure the walkers would keep up.

"It's working," Rory said into his ear, squeezing his shoulder. He looked back at her, with somewhat of a smile.

"We make a good team then, huh?"

It wasn't long before the entire road behind them had walkers, as far as the eye could see, but Dary kept calm, his breathing steady. He almost hated that Rory was behind him, so he couldn't see her and make sure she was okay. She could feel her breathing getting shaky as they went on an incline, and on instinct, his hand moved to her leg, squeezing her knee for a moment before quickly taking it off.

It didn't take long for the pair to reach the orange balloons hanging up high in the air, with a line of RV's in front of them. He slowed his bike down to get them to where they needed to be, and as Michonne, Morgan, and Rick shot flares on the other side, they became attracted to the noise, trying to push through the walls.

However, when Rory looked back, she could still see that there were walkers trailing after them, still more than they could handle taking down on their own.

"Daryl..." She started, her hands clenching on the leather of his vest. "Do we have a full tank of gas?"

"Yes ma'am." He told her, eyes glancing down at his fuel tank just to make sure. She was silent, and he looked back for a second to see the walkers coming after them

"Shit," He revved up the speed for a moment.

"Hold on tight, Rory, we're going for a ride."


	12. eleven

Rory's face felt like it was on fire. 

Rick had announced through the walkie that half of the walkers had run after Alexandria, after hearing the sound of a horn going off near there. She wanted to turn back, and so did Daryl, but they were ordered to keep going, keeping the speed at a fast pace as they went forward, Sasha and Abraham in front of them.

The herd would knock down the wall, she knew it would. 

"I don't know where the hell we're leading these things!" Daryl called to Rory, cranking up the speed to reach the side of Sasha and Abraham's car. Rory had pulled her gun out of her holster, gripping it tightly and anxiously as the groans of the dead sounded behind her.

"Hey, we gone five miles out yet?" Daryl asked them.

"Give or take some yardage. You got a reason for asking?"

"Next intersection... we're gonna spin around and go back."

"Daryl..." Rory started. "Maybe Rick is right. We could be leading more death to them."

"The plan is to go fifteen more." Sasha pointed out.

"I'm gonna change that. Five's gonna have to work."

"The magic number is twenty. That's the mission. That's making sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of any of us."

"Daryl..." Rory gripped his waist with one hand.

"You want to go, we can't stop you, but without you, they could stop us."

Rory looked up at the trees, conflicted on almost jumping off of Daryl's back and climbing into the car. But she could see something in the distance... a sign that one of the artistically talented people at Alexandria had probably painted.

_"Alexandria: The Start of Sustainability."_

They were going to lose that. Maybe they would still lose that if they didn't help, but they had to try. If Alexandria were to fall, Rory wanted to be there when it happened. She wanted to die with the place she had faith in.

"Let's go." She whispered into his ear, having a change of heart. Daryl nodded, turning to Sasha and Abraham.

"I got faith in you!" 

Even as Sasha and Abraham called after him, he drove off, speeding up his bike to get away as fast as possible. He turned at an intersection that would drive them back to Alexandria, which seemed relatively clear from walkers. She could hear the gunshots in the distance, probably of people fending themselves from walkers. She felt herself gripping onto Daryl with the more fear that filled her.

_"Daryl?"_

A voice sounded through Daryl's walkie, one that she recognized to be Rick. Daryl looked back at Rory, gesturing for her to answer it.

"Rick, it's Rory."

"Rory... won't be long now, they're almost here. I'll get them going your way again." 

"How 'bout that Daryl?" Sasha's voice broke through the static. "He's gonna be coming our way." 

"Listen... there's gunfire coming from back home. We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it. I think they can. They have to. We keep going forward for them. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid."

"We ain't afraid," Abraham remarked through the walkie, and Rory smiled through teary eyes.

"This is for them. Going back now before it's done, that'd be for us. The herd has to be almost here." 

There was silence on the other line, and Rory found herself flinching at every gunshot that fired from afar. They had been driving for half an hour, but it didn't seem like they were getting any closer. 

Then Rory heard louder gunshots. Gunshots coming from the walkie. 

"Rick?" She asked rapidly. "Rick? Daryl, stop the bike." 

Daryl pulled over almost instantly at her words, and she continued to plead through the walkie.

"Rick? Are you alright? Rick!" 

"Shit..." Daryl cursed, staring the bike back up. They were going in the opposite direction, back towards Abraham and Sasha, and hopefully Rick. Rory continued to try and get ahold of Rick, but there was no answer. 

"You're not dead," Rory said through the walkie. "You're not dead... you can't be." 

Sasha and Abraham were coincidentally coming right down the interstate that they had turned at, the herd of walkers still behind them. This time, Daryl moved his bike to drive in front of them, and they continued driving the herd, realizing what a terrible idea it had been to ever leave.

Leading this herd was saving Alexandria, at least a little bit. They couldn't abandon their mission, and it had been stupid to try. 

Hitting the twenty-mile marker happened in thirty minutes.

"Alright." 

"That's twenty?"

"It will be," Sasha responded through the walkie. "642 is a mile ahead. We gotta put distance between us and them before the turnoff." 

"So floor it," Abraham added.

"Alright, try to keep up," Daryl called as Rory held the walkie up to his ear.

"Daryl, have you looked at this car?" Sasha laughed. "Believe me, we want to get back there too."

Rory, for the first time in an hour, smiled, hooking the walkie back onto his jacket as they sped up, losing the walkers trail and turning into a road to get back to Alexandria. She hugged him from behind, almost wanting to cry from relief.

"We're gonna make it back." 

Maybe Rory needed to eat her words, because the moment she said, she felt a bullet grazing her shoulder. She let out a cry as more shot at them, and Daryl sped up. The bike couldn't keep up with how fast that he wanted to go, and both of them slid into the concrete, the asphalt grinding against her already open wound. Her head had bounced against the concrete, and she cursed, feeling the blood trickle down her temple.

"Rory?" Daryl grabbed her as her eyelids fluttered.

"That fucking hurt." She told him, putting pressure on her shoulder. Daryl very quickly grabbed her so that she sat in the front of the motorcycle, facing him, her legs straddling around his waist. She could barely keep her head up from how dizzy it was, so he let it fall onto his shoulder, as he tried to speed away at whoever was shooting at them.

Rory felt entirely helpless. Her head pounded, and her ears rang, and the pain that was in her shoulder was overtaking her entire body. She could hear the screeches of a car following behind them, and Daryl cursing into her ear.

"Just hold on, Rory! Keep your head down!" 

Rory didn't look up until she couldn't hear the gunshots anymore, and the bike was slowing down. Her eyes revealed that they were driving in a woody area, and Daryl looked down at her pale face, stopping the bike.

"Come on, don't pass out on me," Daryl told her, grabbing a red bandana from his back pocket, and wrapping it around her shoulder to try and stop the bleeding. 

"Let's just..." She panted out, stepping off of the bike. "Let's keep walk-"

Her knees buckled the moment her feet had hit the ground and tried to carry her own weight, her vision blurring. He grabbed onto her by her waist, examining the wound on her head. It was minor, just a scrape, but from the bruise that was forming on her forehead, it was clear that she had hit it pretty hard.

"No, stay on the bike." He grabbed underneath her arms and hoisted her up to sit on it. "I'll push you, and we'll stop somewhere safe. Your head is bleeding."

"Hm... I couldn't tell." She smiled wearily at him as he began to push her. They had opted to go through the woods instead of down the road, as to not be seen by whoever had shot at them. Rory tried to get a hold of Sasha or Abrama with slurred words, but there was no response, just crackling of static on the other line. 

Rory hummed as Daryl pushed her on the bike, one of his hands pushing on her back lightly for momentum. 

"You're a hero, Daryl Dixon."

"I ain't nothin' like that." He looked at her for a moment, but her face was dead serious. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You could just leave me, let me bleed out on the ground." 

"I wouldn't do that to you, Rory." 

"I wouldn't either, I'd carry your heavy ass to the end." She smiled, putting her hand on his arm. Daryl snorted, stopping the bike once he could a clearing next to a bush. 

"This'll be a good place to patch you up." He helped her get off of the bike and sat her against the trunk of a tree. He set his bike down and used the bush to hide it in case someone tried to come after them again. Attached to the bike was a bag with medical supplies in it, and he unhooked it, approaching her.

"Your hand is bleeding." She pointed out. Daryl looked down, and she could see that he hadn't even noticed because he had been distracted by caring for her. He shrugged. 

"It's alright, I'm fine." 

"Daryl-"

He pulled off his jacket with a wince and draped it over her legs with a wince as he felt the weather get colder. The sun was close to coming down, and they might have had to spend another night together. It was revealed as he pulled his jacket off that he was actually bleeding on his bicep, and a bullet had grazed him, but not as bad as it had gotten her. 

"You're gonna have to tell me how to help you while I do this." He explained to her, pulling out gauze from the bag. 

"Okay," She nodded, swallowing. The pain in her head was dulling, but the dizziness was still there. "No worries, just gotta make sure it's done properly or..." She hissed as her shoulder ran against the bark of the tree. "I could get an infection. You got tweezers in there?"

He nodded.

"Alright, use the tweezers to get the gravel out of my arm. Get everything dirty out of it so infection doesn't happen. That's the first... first step." She explained. 

Daryl did just this, sulking in the silence of their breathing together as he focused. He had to use his knife to cut the sleeve off of her button-up tee and sterilized the tweezers with a flame. It was very tedious to get every bit of gravel out of the wound, but once all of the big pieces were out, he doused the graze with alcohol, and it washed away the tiny pieces. Then he could wrap the wound with gauze. 

She had just watched him this entire time. His tongue darted in between his teeth nervously as he had worked, and glanced up at her to make sure she wasn't blacking out. She was more worried about his, much less serious wound, but he wouldn't let her even mention it until he was done. 

As Daryl was beginning to start and tend to the wound on her head, he heard the snap of a branch a few feet away from them, too loud to be a lazy and zombie-like walker. He ordered Rory to stay where she was, which wouldn't be hard for her to do, and grabbed his crossbow, leaving her there. 

Rory could barely hear what was going on from afar, but she knew there was trouble when she heard a voice that wasn't Daryl's, and the sound of a struggle, and something hitting the ground. She looked around in a haze, grabbing Daryl's knife, and stood up, leaning against the tree. 

She was no match for whoever could take down a man that size of Daryl, but she tried anyway, walking slowly towards where the noise had stopped. She whispered Daryl's name quietly and realized that this was her mistake when a tall, thin man with dirty blond hair jumped in front of her, just inches away from her body. She tried to swing the knife, but with her dizziness and the blur in her eyes, it was a battle and one that the man had won with a strong swing of his hand against her temple.

She was out before she could even scream Daryl's name.


	13. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a lot of episode dialogue, so I'd like to remind everyone that I do not take credit for the dialogue I did not write. It was written by Heather Bellson, from Season 6, episode 6 - Always Accountable.

The hairs on her arms and legs had stood up in fear as she felt a cool, wet cotton pad run across her forehead.

Rory refused to open her eyes. If she opened her eyes, she was terrified that Daryl wouldn't be there. She was scared that he would be decapitated in front of her, bleeding into the cold dirt that she could feel beneath her with her fingertips.

She had failed him yet again. She couldn't defend him as that man had knocked him out. She had been too weak. She had failed herself.

Rory could hear the crackle of a fire in front of her, though she didn't feel its warmth. Someone was blocking its warmth in front of her, their fingertips grazing her cheek. After a moment, she found her eyes fluttering open to see that it was a beautiful woman, with long brown hair and kind eyes. 

Rory's eyes moved to behind her, to see that another woman, with shorter blond hair, but who looked much like the one in front of her, and a man that was lanky and had greasy short hair, were both asleep next to the fire. It was the man who had knocked them out.

Rory suddenly felt herself panic. She tried to push the woman out of the way, but her hands were bound. The woman shushed her, bringing the cotton pad to her head again.

"He's right next to you, love."

Rory turned to her right, to see Daryl, still knocked out, right next to her. 

"Don't wake him up, we don't want him causing problems."

She set the cotton pad down and reached into a box, which looked to be filled with medical supplies. 

"I don't think your wound is bad enough to need stitches but I managed to stop the bleeding for now. I changed the bandage on your arm too..." She looked down disappointedly. "Sorry for shooting at you." 

"I don't care what you're sorry about." Rory retorted, now completely aware of her surroundings. She stared into the fire and contemplated how they would get themselves out of this mess that Rory found herself to be the cause of. 

"I'm Sherry. That's Dwight, my husband, and my sister Tina. What's your name?" Her eyes flickered to Daryl. "What's his?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Trying to be friendly." Sherry adjusted so that she was sitting on her bottom instead of her knees, cross-legged in front of Rory. 

Rory bit her lip, looking up at the sky, trying not to cry. She scratched at her legs with her bound hands. "Listen, I don't know what your plan is... but if your plan is to kill us... please not him." She looked over at Daryl. "You can kill me, torture me, hurt me all you want. Don't hurt my friend." 

"We don't wanna do that," Sherry responded. "We're only here to-"

"Sherry!" Dwight's voice sounded behind her. Rory narrowed her eyes at him as he began to stand up, grabbing the gun that had used to be on Rory's hip. "What are you doing talkin' to them?"

"I couldn't sleep, baby."

"They're dangerous people, Shere, and we can't just have a casual conversation with them." He pointed the barrel of the gun at her head. "Don't you talk to her. Don't you look at her. Go to sleep like your friend over here." 

Rory didn't answer, simply bringing her eyes down to look at her hands. Dwight pulled his wife away from her, and Sherry gave her a sympathetic look, before laying down next to her husband.

They only thing that made Rory want to sleep was the pounding concussion inside her head. Though Sherry had stopped the bleeding, she could still feel the pain, her eyes hurting if she kept them open too long. She felt her eyes fluttering back closed after a few hours of staring into nothing but darkness ignited with the orange flames before her, and she let sleep overtake her.

She felt like she had only slept twenty minutes when she was being kicked in the leg by one of them, her eyes revealing it to be Dwight, though Daryl was now standing next to him. She smiled at him, only because of the sight that he was okay, as she was being pulled up by a grip on the rope that was digging into her skin. Rory did the best she could to give him a hug with no access to her arms, pressing her face against his chest before she was pulled away from him.

"There will be none of that, Jesus Christ," Dwight remarked, pointing Rory's gun towards Tina and Sherry. "Follow them."

Daryl and Rory had no choice but to obey. As they walked through the woods, the cogs turned in Rory's brain as to how they would get out of this situation. The ropes were bound tight, but there was a way to get them off with her mouth. Maybe if she did it while they weren't looking, and pulled Daryl's off, they could get out. 

Before she even had a chance to devise that plan, a water bottle was being shoved into her hands.

"You have a concussion," Sherry remarked. "Drink."

Rory was hesitant, but Daryl nudged her. "She's right, you're gonna collapse if you don't."

"We don't need you falling down." Dwight turned and pointed the gun at her. "Drink."

Rory obeyed, downing half of the water before passing it to Daryl, who also took a generous gulp. Dwight began walking again, but continued talking, pressing the barrel of the gun into Rory's back.

"They find us, maybe we give you to them, they let us call it even. You see, we're reasonable people. Everybody's got their code. You feel you gotta kneel, that's fair enough. We don't."

Rory had no clue what the hell he was talking about, and as she looked at Daryl, she could see he didn't either, his face twisted in confusion. Dwight pushed Rory's back as she had slowed her walking to look at Daryl.

"Don't push her like that, man," Daryl warned. "She can walk on her own."

"Say something again and she won't be walking at all." The man responded, pointing the gun at Rory's temple for a moment before taking it off and pushing her into Daryl harshly. Daryl used his tied together hands as leverage to catch her and bring her balance back, and she silently thanked him with a squeeze on his arm. 

Rory wasn't sure how long they had been walking through the woods before another person spoke, but she could have sworn that she was almost walking while asleep, her head darting up to the voice.

"I can't believe we're back," Tina exclaimed to her sister.

"It's not home anymore, but it's better than we were. This is a pit stop. We pick up Patty, nothing more than that." 

Rory looked around at the forest as they walked. She had barely noticed that the trees were blackened and charred, and there were no leaves around them. 

"Hey, she queried. "Why are the trees burned?"

"That's all me," Dwight responded to her, not looking back.

"How'd you do it?" Tina asked him.

"You saw where we left the truck?"

Tina hummed a confirmation.

"We opened the valve and drove all the way in from Farmview Road. Ran from the treeline till we got to the pavement, lit up a matchbook from the Sweetwater, and dropped it on the trail, then we just ran for the car. We got in and the dead ones were there." 

Rory was startled by the sound of a growl but turned to see that they were walkers that were burned skeletons, barely alive anymore. She stepped over one as they continued to walk.

"They were beating on the hood, and then boom! Knocked 'em on their asses and I took an ax to each one. 

"Then we just watched it go up. No more moans, no more of that wailing. It was just the fire, just burning them all away." Sherry added. 

"You really did all this?" Rory questioned as they went through a clearing where the trees had completely fallen.

"It was right at the start," Sherry shot a smile at Rory. "Everything stopped, the TV, the radio. We were here. The forest was full of them, and the other ones in town, they were drawn to it. They just walked right into the flames. We got most of them. Thought we ended it for us," She pointed at Tina. "And she was in DC. We thought everyone was fighting them wherever they were."

"Yeah," Dwight scoffed. "We thought that was what everybody was doing. Fighting it, that we'd all win together."

"Yeah, the human condition doesn't work like that," Rory said regretfully. "People are more prone to betrayal when it's the end of the world."

"It was stupid. We were stupid." Dwight nodded.

Daryl grabbed onto Rory, stopping her from walking. It took Dwight and the sisters a moment to notice that they had stopped, and Daryl sniffed smugly.

"Y'all don't think you're being stupid right now?"

Dwight almost let out a laugh, pointing Rory's gun at his head. Rory could see the sister's cringe at the sight, and Rory made eyes at them, that they should do something to stop him.

"Are you saying I should kill you?"

Daryl was silent.

"I mean it, are you gonna try and pull something on us? Are we just being thick here by not removing all doubt? Right now, by me not pulling this trigger, is that a mistake? I'm serious. I really wanna know. You made a choice to kill for someone else, to have them own you, for a roof over your head and three squares, so maybe I'm not considering all aspects here." He took the safety off. "You tell me, am I being stupid?"

Rory was gravely confused about what he was talking about. Had Daryl killed someone to live? She shifted on her feet.

"What are you-"

"No," Daryl responded, looking to Rory. "Look, we got somewhere to be. We can make a deal, we can help you out." 

"You're one of them."

"One of who?" Rory asked. 

"Don't pretend. You're hurt and you're alone, and you'd say anything. We should've never trusted you people, to begin with. Go on, keep moving."

Rory scoffed, following Daryl along the trail that Sherry and Tina were leading. She nudged Daryl with her elbow.

"What the hell is he talking about?" She whispered.

"I don't know, but it's not smart to piss off a man with a gun."

"Oh like you just did?" She remarked, scowling at him. He sighed, glancing at her.

"Your head is clean, not bleeding anymore."

"Yeah, thank her." She tilted her head towards Sherry. "Knock us out and then tend to my wound while I'm asleep. These are some real assholes."

"I'm gonna get us out of here, just wait."

The newly formed group walked for another hour until they finally reached a clearing with full sunlight. Tina let out a breath of relief when they found it, running past Daryl and Rory. Past the clearing was revealed to be a fenced-in parking lot, teeming with walkers.

"Son of a bitch!" Dwight cursed when it came into his sight, throwing down the bag that had held Rory and Daryl's belongings.

"Patty..."

"She could be..."

"No, she's gone." 

"Then we make another plan," Sherry announced.

"Then that's the plan."

"You guys didn't have to do this for me," Tina told them. As they spoke, Daryl leaned down to speak into Rory's ear.

"The moment all of their backs are turned, I grab the bag, and you follow me as fast as you can. Don't you lose me, Rory." 

She didn't speak, she just gave him a simple nod. They waited for their moment.

"It was the right thing for all of us."

"This was the right thing? Even if just you guys went back now... if you just told them that it was me..."

"No, we'll find a way."

"Just think about it."

"No." 

Rory watched as Tina began to pant aggressively, and then she was falling to the ground. The drop of concern that she had for the girl washed away as Daryl grabbed the bag and called for her to run. Her legs moved before her brain did, following after Daryl back into the charred woods. The gunshots behind them didn't stop them from running for ten full minutes, finally finding a dip in the wood floor where they could duck behind. Daryl pulled the rope from his wrists with his teeth and then got Rory's. 

The first thing Rory did was wrap her arms around Daryl, and for the first time, he hugged back for more than thirty seconds, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She whispered to him.

"I am too. We both let our guard down." He told her, squeezing her tight against his chest. The moment didn't last long as he told her to begin searching through the bag. The moment she found the walkie, she tossed it to him, and he called for Sasha and Abraham, but nobody answered. 

She could hear growling coming from behind them, and this time, it was a walker that was actually capable of standing. Rory frantically searched for a knife, but instead, found a box buried deep in the bottom of the bag, tangled against his crossbow, as Daryl bashed its head against the tree.

She pulled the box out and cursed. It had a clear label. Insulin. That's why Tina had fainted.

"We go back to Alexandria."

"Daryl-"

"I'm gonna kill them sons of-"

"Daryl!" His head turned to Rory, and his eyes darted across the word.

"For fuck's sake." He groaned out, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. 

"Daryl, she'll die." She explained as she finally found her knife in the bag, strapping it around her waist. 

"We need to get back."

"Daryl..." She stood up, looking at him with pleading eyes. "We've got to. Sherry told me last night, they didn't want to hurt us. They're using us as leverage for... something. Something that they think we're involved in around here that they escaped." 

Daryl shook his head, strapping his crossbow around his shoulder. "We're leaving, now." 

"Daryl-"

"This ain't a question!" His voice raised at her, making her jump. "I heard you last night... sayin' that if they were gonna kill us to just kill you," He poked his finger into her collarbone so hard that it knocked her back. "To spare me and just kill you. _Torture_ you." 

"Yeah," She shook her head. "I care about people, Daryl. I don't want people to die if they don't have to! _Especially_ you." She looked down, moving leaves under her feet. "You matter the most." 

"Why?" Daryl questioned her, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Because..." She sucked in a shaky breath. "You're the only thing I have left from before all this, even if we knew each other for twenty minutes. Those twenty minutes have kept me alive for four years."

He was silent, and she could see the rage melting from his face and turning into sympathy.

"Daryl..." She hesitantly grabbed his hand and ran her thumb along the knuckle. "I'll owe you big time." 

Daryl shook his head, and let himself smile a bit. He reached down and grabbed the duffel bag, pushing it into her chest for her to carry.

"A hundred apple pies, _Rory Campbell._ "

"You've got yourself a deal, Daryl Dixon."

They walked back towards the clearing, and it was just as they expected. The group had barely moved, simply sitting against a log right inside of the woods, speaking quietly to each other. Daryl ordered her to stand back as he raised his crossbow at them, quietly approaching them.

"Drop the gun. Drop it." 

Dwight had no choice but to give Daryl the gun, his face covered in defeat.

"I came all this way with my friend. What you got for the duffel? You put us through too much shit just to give it back. Principle of the thing. What you got besides this gun?"

"Daryl," Rory spoke. "Leave it. Let's just go home."

"Nah, they wasted our precious time. What was that thing you were carving?"

Dwight pulled out a wooden soldier figure from his pocket. "My grandfather taught me how to-"

Daryl snatched it out of his hands. "Don't care. It'll do."

He threw the duffel bag to the ground in front of Sherry and Tina's feet. "Take it. It's all there." He turned, tossing the gun to Rory, who grabbed it and put it back into the empty holster on her hip. "Good luck, you're gonna need it."

Rory wanted that to be the end of it as she turned with Daryl to start walking out of the woods, but it seemed that things never ended in the way that they wanted. The sound of a truck mowing down trees was coming from the North of them and came into view very quickly. Daryl was instantly pulling Rory into his side, and behind a tree. Rory pulled her gun out of the holster as they watched the people get out of the truck.

They couldn't see their faces, only their feet.

"Let's end this." A loud, bellowing voice shouted over the sound of the truck engine.

Sherry shook her head. "It's ours. We earned what we took."

"You're gonna return what you took. You're gonna pay for the gas it took to come out here, and for all the time these men took out. It's over, you know the rules." The voice explained.

"Your rules are batshit!"

"We're not going back, Wade. We're done kneeling!"

"Don't change the subject, asshole." 

A single whistle was all it took to get the truck to start moving again, and towards them. Rory looked up at Daryl.

"Those guys seem like assholes. We should help them."

Daryl grunted for a moment in frustration, before nodding, looking around for a place to hide. He called for the group to follow them in the opposite direction of the truck, hiding behind a bunch of broken down and burned branches that had created some sort of wall. He elbowed Rory once they were behind it.

"Two hundred apple pies."

Since they were hidden, Sherry began to give the insulin to her sister, as Daryl kept watch for the men that had begun to search the woods. Rory peered out from the wall of branches as they searched, eventually seeing a man come towards where they were hidden. Rory could see a walker stuck on a tree right next to the man, and Daryl had seen it too. He rustled the bushes just enough for the man to come closer, and the walker to grab onto him, taking a bite out of his arm.

The man screamed out, and Rory closed her eyes, trying not to watch the blood pour out of his arm.

"Wade, I'm bit!" The man screamed as he brought the butt of his gun against the walkers head.

"Wade, I'm bit!" 

The man, Wade, came running after him, and the group watched as they amputated the man's arm. After that, Wade announced that it was probably best that they left so the man didn't bleed out. Once they were gone, Dwight spoke.

"We thought you were with them. We knock you over the head, tie you up, threaten to kill you... why the hell did you come back?"

Daryl shrugged, wiping at his sweating neck. "Maybe we're just stupid too." 

"I am." Rory pointed out. "I begged him to come back. Those guys seem like assholes." 

Everyone stood up, getting ready to leave. Daryl and Rory had silently decided to help get them to wherever they were looking for before heading back home, though Alexandria raced through her mind, and if it was okay. She prayed that Rick was alive, and had been able to get rid of the walkers.

"So you knew 'em, and you still thought we were them?" Daryl questioned.

"Where we were, we were there since the beginning. We still didn't know everyone. Back when we first threw in with them, it was as good as place as any. Then things got harder, people got harder. Human nature kicked in and it became a truly unique kind of shitshow. 

People will trade anything for safety, for knowing that they're safe." Sherry added.

"Everything."

Rory thought back to every time a scavenger had tried to kill her in her sleep while she was on the road. She thought about her concerns with Alexandria, and people trying to overtake their town. She realized that there were threats even closer to home than she thought and that they needed to be even more cautious.

"They got nothing left except just... existing."

"Hey, nobody's safe anymore. Can't promise people that anyhow." Daryl reassured them.

"You could promise the people who want to hear it."

Rory felt footsteps in front of her start running, and she looked up to see Tina running to a burnt down cottage, two bodies lying in the middle of it. As Dwight tried to stop her, she just walked in, completely awestruck.

"Carla and Delly. That's them." She pointed to the bodies. 

"Me and Tina used to babysit them when they were kids. Everyone said that they went out North when it all started. We didn't know." Sherry spoke to Tina, regarding the fire they had created.

"I did this." Dwight let out, his voice cracking. Sherry shook her head.

"We did this."

Tina kneeled down to pay her respects to the two children, and the fatality happened quicker than Rory could yell out a warning. One of the bodies was a walker, and it grabbed at her, taking a bite right out of her neck. Daryl quickly ran to the bodies, bringing his knife swiftly into their temples. The moment it was safe, Sherry ran to her sister with a scream, ranting out apologies, and sobbing as Tina bled out.

Rory felt herself shiver as she watched Tina die, with nothing that they could do about it. 

"Sherry, we have to..." Rory started. "She'll become one if we don't..." 

Sherry let out another sob, but nodded, holding her hand out. "I'll... I'll do it."

Rory pulled her knife from her thigh and handed it to Sherry. It took a good twenty minutes for her to build up the confidence, but eventually, she brought the knife into Tina's temple and stabbing her brain, ending the possibility that she could become a walker.

When Sherry was standing, the bloody knife still in her hand, she ran into Rory's arms, sobbing into her shoulder. Rory, shocked, wrestled the knife out of her hands and temporarily dropped it to the ground to hug Sherry back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for all of this. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," Rory whispered. "Stroking her hair. "You're going to be safe now." 

Daryl and Dwight searched for shovels, eventually finding one behind the frame of the house. They dug a grave for Tina as Rory consoled Sherry, sitting down on the ground and carving a message into the dirt for Tina with her knife. As they sat together, their shoulders pressed together, Rory listened to Daryl speak.

"Hey, how many walkers you killed?" He stopped shoveling. "Just answer the question."

"A lot. A couple dozen at least."

"How many people?"

"None."

"Why?"

"Why haven't I killed anybody?" Dwight laughed. "Because if I did, there'd be no going back. There'd be no going back to how things where."

Daryl looked over at Rory, who smiled at him, nodding. These people seemed good and pure. They had just gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, which was easy to do in an apocalyptic world when the only priority was surviving however they could.

"I'm from a place where people are still like they are, more or less, better or worse. They're just as good as someone like Rory. Not... not an asshole like me." 

"There are houses," Rory spoke up. "Places to sleep. Food, running water."

Sherry squeezed her hand. "That would be nice."

They were all silent for a moment, breathing in the moment of peace and trust that they had created. Dwight finally broke the silence as he dropped his shovel.

"The grave is done." 

Together, they all brought Tina's body into the grave, covered with a tarp. Once her body was patted down with the piles of dug up dirt, Sherry shifted nervously.

"I don't want to leave without sayin' something. I just don't know what to say..." Her eyes filled with tears. Rory thought for a moment and grabbed Sherry's hand.

"Do you mind if I say something?"

"Please..." 

Rory cleared her throat. 

"My mama used to sing me this song... Frank Sinatra sang it, but it was written by the great Irving Berlin. It was called... ' _The Song Is Ended, But the Melody Lingers On_ '. Tina's time on Earth has ended, but we are the melody, and we will carry on for her. We will do her that service, as we do for all the dead. As I do for my mother, my father, my sister. The ones we love that are gone are the only ones that will carry us to victory." 

The group was silent, except for a sniffle heard from Sherry. Daryl wrapped his arm around Rory for a moment, commending her. They didn't need to speak to know that what Rory had said was right, and true, and genuine. They simply left carrying respect for Tina, and Daryl led them through the woods to where he had hidden his bike and cared for Rory's shoulder injury. The bloody cotton pads were still lying in the dirt by the tree.

"We can walk it from here till we meet up with our friends. They got a car, you can ride with them."

"How many friends you say there were?" Dwight questioned as Rory helped Daryl lift the bike off the ground.

"I didn't. Two of 'em."

"Where are they?"

"We're gonna find out."

"How do you know they even got away? That they didn't get taken?" Dwight followed as they began pushing the bike forward.

"I don't."

Rory felt a hand grab at her hip, and the handgun in her holster was being ripped out of it. Dwight's arm wrapped around her neck, pulling her into his chest. He pointed the gun at her temple, and Daryl cursed, turning around and pointing the crossbow at Dwight.

"I'm sorry," Dwight said. "Give her the crossbow."

"You gonna go back? You gonna be safe?" Daryl asked. "You gonna shoot her?"

"Shut up."

"Ain't nowhere safe no more."

"Give her the crossbow."

"You gonna kneel?"

"Daryl-" Rory warned nervously, the handgun pushing violently into her head. Dwight held it up towards a tree, shooting past Daryl's head, but Daryl didn't even flinch.

Dwight scoffed at the coward, handing his crossbow to Sherry. Dwight let go of Rory, pushing her to the ground at Dwight's feet. Dwight grabbed the bike, turning on the engine. Sherry reached into her bag, throwing bandages at Rory.

"Patch yourself up." She said as she climbed onto the back of the bike. "We're sorry."

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he leaned down to help Rory stand, grabbing onto her waist.

"You're gonna be."


	14. thirteen

Daryl and Rory, together, had found a truck hidden behind a large fallen tree, that he had been determined to get running so they could leave the charred forest behind. There was a full tank of gas in it. It seemed too good to be true.

Rory had examined the exterior of it, remarking that the license plate read _'Patty'_. Maybe what Dwight, Sherry, and Tina had been looking for in that parking lot wasn't a person. Maybe it was this truck and their means of escape.

It seemed it was too late for that now.

He fixed whatever was wrong under the hood, and Rory killed the walkers that had been trapped inside with the only weapon that she had left; her knife.

Once the truck was completely fixed, the drove it out of those woods, only wishing to go home.

Rory had rested her head on Daryl's shoulder, and it took a few turns of his head to realize how exhausted she was, and had taken comfort on his arm as he drove.

It was surprising how easy it was to find Sasha and Abraham, but he had found them standing outside of an office building, a large duffel bag on Abraham's shoulder.

"Hey, need a ride, strangers?" Daryl teased through the window as he pulled into the walker infested parking lot. Abraham dumped their bag in the back of the truck as Sasha climbed into the front, next to Rory. Rory hadn't even woken up from that.

"She must be tired," Sasha remarked, looking at Rory's cheek smushed against Daryl's arm. 

"Concussion," Daryl replied with a nod, continuing to drive. "She lost a lot of blood, she could get an infection."

"Then let's get our asses home," Abraham sighed, patting the door of the truck and climbing in. Rory jolted awake, grabbing onto Daryl's arm in confusion. She turned to look at Sasha and Abraham and smiled hazily.

"We found you."

"Yeah," Daryl nudged her. " _We_."

"Daryl found you!" She corrected herself, putting her cheek back to where it had been while she was asleep. "Good job, Daryl." Daryl started up the car again and pulled out of the parking lot.

They drove for a long while, Rory's eyes kept closed from her exhaustion. Not after long, they made it to the highway, surrounded by trees and the occasional walker, too slow to catch up to them.

Daryl knew something had been wrong when he heard fear in Sasha's voice.

"Daryl-"

He squinted.

"Yeah, I see it."

Rory's eyes fluttered open, and she sat up, seeing that there was a group of about eight or nine men on motorcycles blocking their way out. 

"What in the holy shit?" Abraham scoffed as Daryl slowed the truck to a stop, making sure his crossbow was still near his legs. Rory grabbed her knife, but Daryl put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't try anything just yet. We'll see what they want first."

Rory nodded, slipping the knife back into its sheath but making sure it was unfastened so she could pull it out quickly. She watched the men, specifically the one in the front, with gray hair and a devious smile.

"What do you reckon these assholes want?" She pondered.

"Our stuff," Abraham responded.

"Well, they're not getting our stuff." 

"Damn right, woman," Daryl muttered.

The man who had stood from his motorcycle grinned, holding his hand up. "Why don't you come on out? Join us on the road? If you wanna resist, try somethin'... I mean, it's a choice, I guess. But we will end your asses, split you right in two, straight through your sinuses. So come on." 

Daryl turned off the engine and pulled the key out of the ignition, turning to look at his group. Rory smiled at him and patted his leg.

"Stay calm. We've got these assholes." 

One by one, they climbed out of the truck, Rory, sliding through the driver's side to stand near Daryl. 

"It's going well right out of the gate." The man laughed, and his men behind him repeated the laugh. "Now step two, hand over your weapons." 

"Why should we?" Daryl questioned, barely moving.

"Well, they're not yours."

Rory snorted, looking down at her boots and then back up at the man. Daryl cursed at her in his head. She was going to get herself killed.

"Don't laugh, girl. Your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seats, change in the seats, hell, the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the little stash of emergency napkins you got there in the console... none of those things are yours now."

He held his arms out, showing how they were defeated. 

"Whose are they?" Sasha asked, eyes narrowing.

"Your property now belongs to Negan."

"What a stupid fuckin' name," Rory remarked, and Daryl even took the chance to swat her on the shoulder lightly. She looked up at him.

"What?"

The motorcycle man laughed. "He'd like you, and if you can get your hands on a tanker, you're people our person wants to know, so let's get those sidearms, shall we?"

The man approached, coming up to Daryl first. "Right now." 

Daryl reached into the back of his pants and handed over his handgun. Rory handed over her knife with a disgusted frown, and then he moved on to Sasha and Abraham.

Abraham hesitated.

"If you have to eat shit, best not to nibble. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. It goes quicker."

Abraham handed over his piece slowly, and the man mouthed a thanks, bringing it back over to his bike.

"Who are you assholes?" Rory asked, crossing her arms.

"I get the curiosity, but we have questions ourselves, and we'll be the ones asking them while we drive you back to wherever it is you call home. Take a gander at where you hang your hats. First though... your shit. What have you got for us?"

Daryl felt anger rising through to his head. "Yeah, you just took it."

"Come on, I mean... can we not, okay? There's more, there's always more." He sighed, grabbing onto the handles of the motorcycle and motioning for one of his men to start walking towards Daryl. "T, take my man to the back of the truck, start inside the back bumper, work your way to the front."

Daryl felt a hand push onto his shoulder, and then he was leaving Rory's side, giving her a reassuring look as he was pushed to the back of the truck. The man instructed for him to open the back of the truck, threatening him with a knife, and he knew he had to think quickly.

He could see a rusted piece of bumper that was sharp enough to break skin if he tried hard enough. It would have to do. First, he opened up the back of the truck, revealing the large duffel bag Abraham had placed in there. When ordered for him to open the bag, he instead grabbed the rusted piece of bumper and ripped it off with all of the force he could, turning and driving it into the man's stomach.

The man tried to fight, even bringing the blade of his knife against Daryl's shoulder blade, but he was too weak to make it, just barely cutting through the fabric of his jacket and into his skin. Daryl brought his hand over the man's mouth and let him fall slowly to the ground.

He thought about what to do, reaching up to look through the duffel bag. When he realized what it was, he smiled, lifting the heavy weapon into his arms, without making noise. 

His smile fell as he heard a gunshot, and he quickly hopped out of the truck, jumping to the side and shooting an RPG at the motorcycle gang. 

The explosion happened right where they sat, and Daryl didn't want to notice the person bleeding on the ground. When he looked down and saw that it was Rory, he felt his entire body shiver and he rushed over to where she laid, her blood spilling onto the gravel, a gunshot wound in her shoulder.

"What happened..." Daryl said, it barely being a whisper. Sasha and Abraham were holding onto their ears, the blast of the RPG being way too close for them.

Daryl didn't care. He grabbed onto Rory and pressed his hands into her wound, the red staining his hands. She had passed out, probably from the pain, 

"Goddamnit, what happened?!" Daryl screamed it out, lifting Rory up and carrying her to the back of the truck. 

"She..." Sasha rubbed at her ear. "She tried to fake them out and tell them that there were walkers behind them so she could help you, but they caught her trying to run." 

"Start driving."

"What?" Abraham asked, still holding his ears in pain. 

"GO!" He yelled, pulling off his vest and pressing it into her shoulder. 

His heart stammered and pounded in every part of his body as he watched her limp body flail as the truck began to move, and he held her tightly, pressing her face against his chest. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered to her. It was the only thing he could say.

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_


	15. fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next few chapters will be fluffy fillers!

Confusion.

It was the first thing that Rory felt when she had awakened from her unconsciousness, and realized that she could barely move her right arm.

Then her eyes fluttered open, and she realized where she was.

The infirmary at Alexandria. It wasn't burned down or covered in the blood of her friends. There were no walkers roaming inside the room. Her eyes traveled across the room, landing on a second bed a few feet from hers. She could see that it was Carl, a bandage over his eye.

Then something must have happened, and she hadn't been there to help.

The last thing she remembered was trying to run from that motorcycle gang, and then everything was black. She remembered hearing things, she could hear Daryl, but there was nothing else.

Daryl. Where was Daryl?

She used her hands to push herself up in the bed, the pain in her shoulder muffled by an IV in her hand, that was dripping morphine into her veins. Carefully and professionally, she untaped the IV and pulled the tube out of her skin, and swung her leg over the bed. 

"You totally should not be doing that." She heard from Carl's bed, and she turned, seeing him stare wide-eyed at her. 

"How long have I been out?" She asked, her body shivering as her bare feet hit the cold linoleum. The moment she stood, she felt her brain vibrate and her vision blur, and she felt herself fall back down onto her mattress. She could hypothesize on her own that she had barely eaten anything for days, and she was incredibly malnourished.

"A day, I think. I don't know, I woke up last night."

"What happened to you?" She asked, turning to look at the bandage again.

"I got shot in the face. What about you?"

"I got shot..." She looked down at her bandage. "In the shoulder I guess." Her hand reached up to run through her hair, and she could feel stitches on the back and the side of her scalp. This was the first time she had been so beaten up in years. Her entire body was sore.

"Is everyone okay?" She asked him, managing to stand up again without falling back over, but using a hand to hold onto the side of the bed anyways. She found her boots on the opposite side of the bed, and she started to pull them on, lacing them loosely so she could find where Daryl was.

"You know Jessie?"

Rory frowned, looking up at him. She wasn't close with Jessie, but she was Pete's wife, and occasionally their sons Ron and Sam would come to the infirmary for Rory to look after if they were having a hard time with their marriage.

Rory nodded at him.

"They're all gone. Walkers." He mumbled, turning his eyes from her. Rory shook her head, devastated. Sam was so young, and Ron had been Carl's age. 

Carl sniffed. "That's all who I know of. There are others, I don't know who."

"Where's Daryl?" She asked, her voice trying not to crack. She had crossed slowly from the beds to the pharmacy area, finding painkillers and slipping them into her pocket. Her stomach was growling at her, mixing with the pain that was slowly coming back from her morphine-induced shoulder. 

"Are you kidding? Since I've been awake he's barely left your side. It's a surprise he isn't here right now."

Rory felt her heart flutter, and a smile grew on her face. "So he's okay?"

"Barely has a scratch on him," Carl reassured her. That was enough for Rory to hear before she was giving Carl a quick hug and walking out of the infirmary into Alexandria.

There was blood grazing the streets and the white houses. On the very steps of the infirmary, there was a puddle of blood, and Rory wondered if it was hers.

Most of the civilians were helping each other clean, sweeping, and getting rid of the bodies of walkers. Rory felt incredibly lightheaded as she walked in the direction of her house, the smell of smoke filling her nose. They must have been burning the walkers on the other side of the wall, which she noted was broken down at the front. There was no more gate. They were being kept safe by the truck that Rory and Daryl had found in the woods.

Rory made it to her house almost ten minutes later than she would usually from the infirmary, her shoulder killing her and her head pounding. 

She barely made it inside without the sound of the door opening making her cringe, but it seemed to fade away when she heard a voice sounding in her living room. It was a voice that made her smile wide, and she looked up at him, not even hearing what he was saying.

Daryl squinted at her, setting down the stack of clothing in his hands.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" 

She barreled toward him, almost falling into his arms. She couldn't lift her arms due to her injury, so she just pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking in his familiar warm. He let her for a moment before pushing her back gently to look her in the eye.

"I asked you why you're out of bed."

"I woke up, wondered where you were..." She trailed off towards her couch and sat down. "If you were safe."

"You were shot trying to save my ass and you're worried if I'm okay?"

Rory shrugged. "Anything could have happened while I was unconscious, which, speaking of, what happened?"

Daryl stood in silence for a moment and then trailed over to sit next to her, staring at his hands.

"Walkers had taken over the entire area of Alexandria, and you were bleeding out in the back of the truck we had gotten home in. Abraham got these giant cans of oils and spilled them into that lake, and I shot the RPG into it so the walkers were distracted. After that... I just carried you to the infirmary, and Denise patched you up."

Rory tried to imagine the scenario in her head, but she couldn't. She grabbed Daryl's hand from his lap and squeezed, giving him a small smile.

"Thank you. I feel terrible for not being conscious and helping-"

"Ain't your fault. Those motorcycle dudes were assholes." Daryl's eyes gazed at her and stuck on her face. "You're pale, needa eat something." He stood up, walking to her kitchen, and beginning to search through the fridge.

Rory smiled, standing up and following him over and sitting at the breakfast bar. She wondered why he seemed to care so much about her, but she seemed she had no room to talk. They had somewhat of an affinity for each other. They just meshed well. He made her feel safe and at home, she just couldn't place her finger on why.

Daryl made her a peanut butter and jelly, and though it wasn't anything fancy, Rory let out a happy groan when she took a bite of it, him leaning against the counter and watching her silently.

"Daryl Dixon, I could kiss you right now." 

"It ain't nothin'." He said, his cheeks pink. He moved to the couch, grabbing the clothing he had been carrying when she had opened the front door and bringing them to her. "Denise said you would probably be awake today, so I was going to bring you these for when you woke up I don't want you to think I was just breakin' inside your house."

"Daryl, if you make me more sandwiches, you can break into any time." 


	16. fifteen

Daryl had no idea what he was doing.

No matter what task was at hand, he found himself having Rory on his mind. He was constantly worried about what she was doing, and if she was being safe. He felt himself have heart palpitations when he found out she was helping build the wall back up, even if her injury had been close to healing by then.

The night after Rory had been shot, he had stayed with her and made sure she was okay, and the next day, he had found a vase of flowers on his kitchen counter, full of white daisies. A note was taped to the vase.

_Thanks for everything, Daryl Dixon._

_-R_

She had even added a messy heart at the end of her initial, and it had made Daryl shiver like a stupid high schoolboy. He even kept one of the daisy petals in his pocket every time he went out on runs with Rick, tucked carefully inside of a handkerchief.

He felt so dumb. He hated the way her smile grew every time she saw him, how she said his full name or the way her hand rested on his arm or how she hugged him, and how she was the only one he didn't hate hugging him. He wanted to hug her back.

He wanted to bury himself in her hair, in her curves, in her smile.

Rory had seen things, she had gone through hell and back, and she still managed to smile at him.

Daryl had tried to avoid her and to suppress the feelings, but he always found himself coming back to her. Carol teased him about it endlessly, and Rick would purposefully send them on runs together, a smirk on his face as he'd tell them to _'have fun'_ or to _'look out for each other'_.

In hindsight, those were some of Daryl's favorite moments in Alexandria.

Even as they walked in the damp humid air, the weather miserable, Daryl enjoyed her company as she walked a bit behind him on an empty road, humming to herself. Woods surrounded all of them, and they were headed towards a school that Deanna had informed Rick about before her fatal death in the walker invasion. Deanna's death was something that Rory wasn't yet ready to talk about.

Daryl was hyperaware of the sound of her boots scuffing the ground below her, and he had almost immediately turned when the scuff stopped, seeing that she had ceased walking, and was looking into the woods.

"What're you-" Daryl started, shifting his gun from hand to hand, but she held her finger up, stopping him. She took a few steps toward him, and grabbed his hand, pulling him to her line of sight. She pointed, and through the trees was a full-grown elk, grazing through the grass alone.

She squeezed his hand and looked up at him with excited eyes _(he couldn't admit it, but making his heart melt)_ , obviously planning on getting this animal for dinner. Daryl patted her shoulder.

"Good eye."

"Thank you, Mr. Dixon." She said proudly, watching him lift up his gun to aim it at the deer.

Daryl kept his hands steady, and pulled the trigger. It shot into the head of the elk, knocking it down and killing it. Rory, though excited, cringed at the sound as she rushed toward the elk, Daryl following close by to make sure no walkers were around.

He watched her kneel in the dirt beside the elk, and place her hand in the fur, almost petting it. She was so gentle, even with something that would be butchered and eaten within the next few days.

She looked back at him, and Daryl acted like he hadn't been staring, leaning against a tree nearby.

"We still need to go to that school, we can't carry it all the way there. I guess we just cover it and come back?"

Daryl nodded. "It will stay good for a few hours out here."

He assisted covering the elk up with copious amounts of branches and leaves so that no walker or human would come across it. Then they returned to the road and continued their journey to the abandoned school, Rory in a particularly good mood.

"Why are you so happy?"

She turned to look at him, rolling her eyes, but her smile never yielded. "I haven't been able to get my hands on some good medicine for weeks. Now that Rick is letting me go on runs, I just know that nurse's office will have something great."

"You gonna smile like that for the who next mile we gotta walk?" He pondered, and she pushed his shoulder, giggling.

"Got a problem with that, Dixon?"

"Nuh-uh," He let himself give her a lopsided smile, and swung his gun to his side. "Going on runs with Rick is like going on runs with a sloth."

"I could say the same for you, Daryl. You hardly show emotion on that adorable face of yours."

Daryl hated the fact of how much that made him blush, and how he could barely respond with anything but a snort.

They got to the school in the mid-afternoon. It wasn't a big school, but it was a high school, and scattered across the parking lot were walkers, some of them still with backpacks and school uniforms on. Students, teachers, parents. Daryl prayed he wouldn't find an empty baby carriage or little kids. Those were the ones that were hardest to put down.

A fence enclosed the entire school, named _St. Anthony's_ , and a long, overgrown, vine-covered staircase would lead them down towards the parking lot. As Rory tried to get the fence to the staircase open, she looked back at him.

"Saint Anthony of Padua."

"Huh?"

"I'm guessing that's who the school is named after. He was the patron saint of lost things. Kind of ironic and... sad."

"Where'd you learn that?" Daryl questioned, almost admiring her.

"Catholic school. My mom made me go, even though we couldn't afford it."

"What was yours called?"

"St. Jude's. Patron saint of lost causes." She looked at the apocalyptic world around them. "Whaddya know, that one's accurate."

It took Daryl everything in him not to laugh out loud at the reality of that statement as he tried to help Rory break the fence open. It wouldn't seem to budge, a giant padlock with a chain wrapped around the fence bars. They hadn't brought pliers or a crowbar, and the fence went around the entire school, in a large square.

"Hoist me up." She instructed, setting her backpack down on the ground. "Then I can help you up, and we can jump over."

Daryl nodded, though still worried about her healing shoulder injury. She put her hands on his shoulders and stepped onto his hands. He held onto the back of her thigh as she swung her leg over the top of the fence, sitting on it like it was a horse. He tossed his backpack to her, which she dropped to the ground on the other side, and grabbed both of his hands, pulling with all of her strength to get him up, which she did.

He could tell that it had brought pain to her shoulder once she let go of him, but she shook it off with a smile as she jumped to the ground.

"Think we could avoid these assholes." She took a deep breath and nodded towards the walkers in the parking lot."

"I'm sure there are entrances on each side of the building." Daryl queried, handing Rory her backpack. She pulled her knife out of its sheath, and Daryl made sure his shotgun was loaded, missing his crossbow dearly.

They mutually agreed that they would try the entrance farthest away from the parking lot, where they only needed to take down five or six walkers, whereas the parking lot had maybe fifty of them. Rory would take down the ones close to them with her knife, and Daryl shot at the ones farther away.

Once they reached the doors, they both realized that the windows had been covered with newspaper. They couldn't gauge how many walkers would be inside, but they could hear them. He watched Rory push her messy hair out of her face to press her ear against the door.

"It doesn't sound like that many."

She lightly pulled on the door.

"We'll have to pick the lock."

"I've got that." Daryl held his hand out for her knife, and she gave it to him. He jiggled the knife inside of the lock until he found the bolt, and he pushed it to the right, hearing the lock click. Rory smiled as he handed the knife back to her.

"Impressive, Dixon."

"It's easy." He said, holding up his gun and nodding for her to open the door. She suddenly became cautious, pulling the door open slowly, and then turning to the side so that the walkers wouldn't immediately see her.

There was a whole crowd of them hovered over something, eating something, the squelching, and crunching too much for Daryl's ears to handle. He glared at Rory.

"Think you need to see the ear doctor."

"It didn't sound like that many! We can sneak past... I need that medicine, D."

He blinked, taken aback. She had never called him that nickname before, nobody had. It made him shiver, and he looked over at her, seeing her pleading eyes and her defensive stance. Her knuckles were paperwhite from gripping her knife.

"Let's go." He told her, going in first, leading her to the right corridor. Doors lined the walls, most of them being classrooms. The painted green walls made him feel sick, he rushed to lead her to where they needed to go. Judith needed clothes, and they needed food, desperately.

The walkers could smell them, beginning to walk slowly around and following after them, but slowly, buying them time.

"So," She whispered, ceasing their walking at the end of the hall. "The cafeteria is down that way."

She pointed a few feet away down the hall to a set of double doors. She moved her finger to a door behind her.

"Here's the nurse's office. Should we split up?"

"I don't like that idea." Daryl shook his head, cringing at the thought of something happening to her because he wasn't there. "We stick together." He turned his head. The herd of walkers was at the very end of the hall that they had just come down, but they were on their way.

"Go in, get what you need, and I'll stand guard."

Rory nodded, rushing into the nurse's office with her backpack. He could hear the rattling of pills after a few minutes, and her searching through cabinets for anything she could find. As the walkers got closer, Daryl got more nervous, raising his gun to shoot a few down.

"How we doin' Rory?"

"Almost done!" She yelled back.

Daryl turned to look at his left, to another corridor. There were a few walkers coming that way too, and Daryl felt his heart pounding. He let out a breath of relief when Rory came out of the nurse's office when the herd was right on their tail. He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the cafeteria, and pushing open the door, pulling them in. Rory immediately got to work pulling a rope out of her backpack and tying the door together, and soon, the herd of walkers was pounding on the door.

Daryl pushed a cabinet of drawers in front of the doors, just to be safe.

"Well, I guess leaving the way we came is out." She sighed, looking around the dark cafeteria. Luckily, it seemed to be clear of walkers. They all appeared to be in that group in the parking lot, or outside of the double doors. A large snack must have come through for them and chased them down.

Daryl looked around. There weren't any other exits in the cafeteria, meaning they'd have to wait for the walkers from behind the door to disperse so they could escape.

"We'll have to stay here for the night." He informed her, setting down his gun onto one of the lunch tables. "Say goodbye to your elk."

Rory sighed, plopping her backpack down onto the floor. She crossed over to him and swung her arm around his shoulder, leading him towards the kitchen area of the cafeteria.

"Then we'll make it a party, Dixon."


	17. sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL AND PHYSICAL ASSAULT IN THIS CHAPTER

It had started to rain outside.

Rory and Daryl had found plenty of food in the kitchen, for the night and for them to take home to Alexandria. Rory had even found candles and some emergency blankets in a case at the back of the cafeteria, and they had made a little fort-like area on the floor in the corner of the room, candles surrounding them. 

Rory had managed to cook up some soup by setting some paper on fire in a metal bowl and holding a can of soup over the bowl. 

It was getting to be the kind of weather where it was cold at night, and with no heat, both of them could feel all of it. They ate with emergency blankets covering their shoulders, and Rory had found a battery-operated CD player, that quietly played a mix of songs, most ones that she had never heard before. 

It was nice, the silence that the two sat in, but every time she caught him staring at her, she felt herself shiver and want to smile. She had to bite the insides of her cheeks to stop it. 

She knew Daryl didn't feel that way about her, and it wasn't like she wanted him to, but the fact that he made her feel so safe and cared about. Not even Deanna, who she confided and argued with, made her feel quite as heard as Daryl did.

He was always there, somehow. She would be working on building the wall around the town, and suddenly he would be pushing a bottle of water in her hands. Sometimes he would come by her house to check that she had eaten. He would bring her gauze to change the bandage on her gunshot wound, and now, they were going on regular runs together. 

She wanted to push it out of her mind. He was just Daryl, and that's all it was. They were friends, at least she hoped they were, and it was normal for friends to do this.

She had lost so many people, and he was the main constant in her life. All of Rick's group were constants, but he was the one that was always there. It made her want to scream at him, and then kiss him, and tell him everything that was running through her head in that single kiss.

But instead, they were silent. 

They were silent for a long time, both of the focused on watching the flame flicker on the same candle, the soup long gone. 

A song began to play on the CD player, one that Rory was familiar with. That show-stopping smile flashed on her face, and she looked up at Daryl, unable to help herself. It took him a moment to notice her smiling at him.

"What?"

"I love this song." She stood up, moving to the CD player to turn it up a few notches.

"Don't know if that's a good-"

"Shut up, Dixon. Live a little."

"Never heard this song before..." He muttered, embarrassed. 

"You've never seen Ferris Bueller?"

She began to sway around the room, tiptoeing around the candles until she was in a clear area. She closed her eyes, singing to the music poorly.

_Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen._

_Thank you for all the joy and pain._

_Picture shows, second balcony, was the place we'd meet._

_Second seat, go Dutch treat, you were sweet._

"Come on Daryl." She held her hand out to him, and he shook his head, bringing his knees to his chest.

"Nah, I don't do that kind of thing."

"Daryl..." She whined, drawing out his name.

"We should get some sleep." 

"Daryl, come on, live a little. We're here for the night." 

"I don't know how to...how to dance." 

"You don't have to. Come on." 

Daryl stared at her for a moment and then stood up, pushing the blanket off of his shoulders and walking slowly towards her. She reached down and grabbed his hands at his sides.

"This hand goes here," She placed his left hand on her waist and grabbed his right hand with her other. "And we hold hands here." 

"Now what?" He looked up awkwardly, and she could feel the muscles in his arms tensing as she placed her free hand on his shoulder. 

_Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen._

_Save those lies, darling don't explain._

_I recall Central Park in fall,_

_How you tore your dress, what a mess, my heart says danke schoen._

Rory didn't know what it was about him, maybe it was his comfortable silence, that made her want to spill her guts to him, but she could barely stop her own mouth from talking as she started to sway him side to side.

"My dad..." She huffed through her nose. "And my mom, I don't think they really loved each other. All my mom was worried about was making sure our family looked perfect, and all my dad was worried about was drinking and using my sister and me as... toys."

She looked down, trying not to picture her father's face in her head. Daryl was silent, unable to take his eyes away from her face.

"But after he would... touch me or Wren, leave scars in places that people couldn't see, he would always take us out for some sort of treat so our mom wasn't suspicious. One time, when we were thirteen, he took us to this drive-thru place downtown that played old movies, and they played _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_. My sister and I couldn't stop singing this song for months."

_Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen._

_Thank you for walks down Lover's Lane._

_I can see hearts carved on a tree,_

_Letters intertwined for all time,_

_Yours and mine, that was fine._

"I didn't know." Daryl's jaw clenched. "I'm sorry. Does anyone at uh... Alexandria know?"

"About my dad?" She shook her head. "No, not now. Deanna did... I barely had to say anything and she just knew." 

"I thought you hated her."

Rory felt her eyes start to burn. She hadn't talked about Deanna since she figured out about her death, and that was only to Maggie. 

She shrugged.

"Deanna treated me like a daughter way more than my parents ever did. She didn't expect anything out of me. The stupid thing is... I still talk to my mom like she's here." 

"I talk to my brother." Daryl retorted. "He's dead. That's not weird."

"Was your brother as much of a dick as he was the night I met him?"

"Yeah," Daryl chuckled. "Yeah, he was."

They danced long after the CD had ended, swaying back and forth until eventually, Rory's head was resting on Daryl's chest, and his hand had moved from her waist to her back. Her fingers had gone to the nape of his neck, where she played with his hair, which seemed to grow every second. 

She would never know how she could feel so comfortably intimate with him, or how he could feel so comfortably intimate with her. It was just how they were, and she was ready to just accept it. 

"My dad beat me." Daryl blurted out at some point. "Me and Merle. I got scars in places where people can't see too." 

Rory pulled away from him, stopping their dance, and saw the hurt in his face. His eyes were twinkling, close to tears, and he was chewing on his bottom lip, trying to look away from her. She smiled sadly at him, putting her hands on his cheeks.

For a second, she thought about kissing him, but she didn't want to ruin the moment. That's not what he needed. 

She used her thumb to rub the crease in between his eyebrows away, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head into the crook of her neck. 

"Hey, I'm here for you." She whispered to him, rubbing his back. She blinked her tears away, and they fell into the fabric of his vest. "You know that?" 

"Yeah," He grunted out into her shoulder. "Same for you, you know." 

They pulled away from each other and she nodded, with a smile. Daryl hadn't cried, but she could tell he was close, and she punched his shoulder lightly, trying to break the ice. 

"Let's get some sleep, yeah?" 

Rory, since the invasion of walkers, had found herself waking up more and more in the middle of the night every night. In her dreams, all that would flash in her head were images of Aiden, Deanna, and her family. Sometimes she would even see bloody, gruesome nightmares of Daryl dying, and her being unable to stop it.

It left her breathless, and sweating into her blankets.

This time, the dream had been of her father, lurching at her with bloody and yellow teeth, and gnawing at rotting flesh. He was eating Wren, her sister, and she was behind a locked door, unable to do anything about it. She woke from her dream panting, her eyes immediately trailing to Daryl, who was laid down just a few inches away from her feet. 

She didn't know what had compelled her to do it, but she had scooted down so she was level with Daryl's body, his back facing her. She didn't touch him, but she got as close as she could, trying to steal his warmth and comfort selfishly for herself. She thought that was good enough, her eyes fluttering closed, but then she felt Daryl turning to face her, and his arm was wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest. 

She let out a satisfied sigh, not even opening her eyes, and returned the favor with her arms around his waist.

"Thank-"

"Shut up," Daryl grunted back, burying his face in her shirt.

"Just go to sleep, R." 


	18. seventeen

Daryl had woken up before her, almost not wanting to let go.

Rory's hands were threaded through his hair, and every few seconds, her fingers would flex and run through them, sending a shiver down his spine. 

It gave him a feeling warmer than the sun that was beginning to shine through the windows. He basked in the sound of her even breaths on his chest, and the warmth radiating off of her waist into his hands. 

At the thought of the walkers still behind the doors, anxiety consumed his mind. 

He had a family now, he loved all of them, even if he would never admit it, but there was something about Rory. He didn't even want her to be here, in some sort of danger. He imagined her in the infirmary, treating a scrape on a little kid. 

After thinking for a few moments, he gently grabbed her hands and pulled them from his hair, as much as he didn't want to. He slid his hands from her waist and watched as she shivered, curling her knees up closer to her chest and snuggling under the blanket.

There she is.

He stood up silently, trying not to make a lot of noise, and moved to the lunch table where they had put their bags, and the supplies they had found.

Rory had gotten plenty of medication from the nurse's office, and they had found plenty of jars of food, that had made Rory's backpack almost thirty pounds, it felt like. He cursed himself for not bringing a bag, but he hadn't had much hope for the school, thinking someone would have ransacked it by now. 

She had woken up half an hour after Daryl, finding him sat at the lunch table with their things, making sure everything was packed up. He wanted to snicker at her bedhead, and her slow blinks as she wiped the sleep from her eyes, but all he could do was look at her with admiration.

"Mornin'..." She mumbled, stretching her back and sitting next to him. He mumbled the same greeting back. 

"I have a gift." She exclaimed once her drowsiness had left her, grabbing her bag and searching through a pocket Daryl hadn't yet opened. She swiftly grabbed a blue box from it, holding it behind her back with a giggle. He glanced at her, confused.

"What is it?" 

She began to make a drum sound with her tongue, and slowly revealed the box. It was an open box of Pop-Tarts, strawberry flavored, something Daryl probably hadn't eaten since he was five. They didn't have that kind of food around his place, even as a kid, but occasionally, Merle would bring him something like that. 

Rory smiled, pulling out one of the foil packets and handing it to him.

"Open it!" 

"You're excited over a pastry." Daryl scoffed, grabbing the Pop-Tart and pulling open the package. He pulled one of the pastries out and handed it to her, taking the other one for herself. Rory grabbed his arm, holding up her Pop-Tart and knocking it against his. 

"Cheers."

"You're ridiculous." He said, taking a bite, the artificial strawberry flavor filling his mouth. Her hand still rested on his arm, burning into his skin, as she took hers. The moment she took a bite, she was smiling, and it was making his heart do flips in his chest. 

"Way sweeter than I remember." She exclaimed, leaning against him. "But so," She sighed, taking another bite. "So good." 

"This better than my sandwich?" He teased, elbowing her.

"Of course not," She scoffed, turning to look him directly in the eyes. "Daryl Dixon, nothing could be better than your PB and J."

For once in his stupid life, he found himself smiling genuinely at something, and he couldn't wipe that smile from his face as they got ready to leave. He couldn't help enjoying the sound of her humming as she brushed through her hair with her fingers and pulled it up out of her face with a hair tie. He wanted to run his hands through it, but there was no time to think about that.

When they were all geared up, they quietly began to pull the barricades from the double doors, and Rory unwound the rope, shoving it back into her heavy bag. Daryl pulled one of the doors open slowly, seeing that the herd had dispersed, mostly down in the left corridor. 

He led her down the hall with his hand on her wrist, and then they turned left, to the exit, breaking out of the school. 

Immediately, growls filled his ears, and he turned to Rory to see that she was already struggling with a walker trying to take a bite out of her. She couldn't reach for her knife, which was still in its sheath around her leg. 

Daryl felt fear wash over him, and he raised his gun, shooting it into its head quickly and then pulling it off of her.

"I should have had my knife ready." She groaned out, wiping walker saliva off of her shirt. He grabbed her shoulder, pulling her towards the fence and away from the walkers that were coming from the parking lot, towards the noise. 

They made it out with no casualties, the walkers soon crowding the fence right when they had jumped over. 

Daryl didn't when it had happened, but their fingers were laced together as they found their way back to the road, smiles on both of their faces. He reveled in the feeling of her skin, and the way that she squeezed his hand when they came across a walker, not even letting it go when he easily shot it down.

When they passed by the elk that had since started decaying, Rory said a sermon for it, waving her free hand around dramatically, and swinging their conjoined ones. It made Daryl feel normal, but it wasn't normal from the old world.

His normal was slumming it with Merle, sleeping on benches, and scrounging up enough money for a single burger. This was a better normal. This was normal that he wanted to get used to, not be forced to get used to. He wanted to hear Rory say good morning to him every day and see her smile.

Maybe now, he could have that. 

"Hey," Rory squeezed his hand and shook him out of his thoughts. He looked down at her and her bright face, which seemed to make the sun coming through the trees even brighter. "We're close to Alexandria but... I have a secret spot nearby, I wanna show it to you." 

Daryl couldn't help asking.

"Why me?"

"Because..." She groaned. "I get upset sometimes, and I push people away." She pulled him away from the road and into the wooded area. "I want you to know that if I push you away, or run away, this is where I am. I don't mean to, it's just what I do." 

They walked for a few minutes until they reached a clearing, and Daryl almost gasped at how beautiful it was. There was a big willow tree amongst the others behind them, and from afar, a field of sunflowers.

"Rick is the only one that knows about this place other than you. It's where I went after storming away from Deanna." She explained, sitting down underneath the willow tree and pulling him to sit beside her. 

Daryl felt ridiculous. He had never wasted time with a girl like this. He had always had the mindset that every minute was precious and that he should be doing something with it, but with Rory, time felt irrelevant. It didn't feel like he was wasting time with her. 

"It's pretty here." He grunted out, focusing on the feeling of her hand in his. 

Yeah," She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "It is." 

There she is.

She sighed in a satisfactory manner, and they both ran their eyes over the field of flowers.

"I imagine kids running around here," She explained. "Picking flowers, giving them to their moms. I can see Carl and Judith playing, Enid playing the 'he loves me, he loves me not' game..." She looked up at him from his shoulder, and he didn't look down at her, worried that he might try to kiss her if he did. 

"What do you see?"

Daryl shrugged. "I don't know..."

"Come on, close your eyes, picture it..." 

Daryl rolled his eyes at her but did what she asked, his eyes fluttering closed. His ears were focused on the sound of her breathing and the birds chirping in the tree above them. 

The first thing he saw was bare feet, running across the soft grass and into the sunflowers. As his eyes traveled upwards in his fantasy, he could see it was Rory, wearing a flowing white dress, twirling around the grass. 

She plucked two sunflowers, tucking one behind her ear, and then coming to Daryl, tucking one behind his. 

Before he could even stop himself from fantasizing it, she was bringing his lips to hers, smiling brightly as she did it. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and-

"Hey!" Rory pushed Daryl's shoulder, and he opened his eyes, turning to look down at her. She punched his arm lightly. "You were falling asleep on me. What did you see?"

"I saw what you saw." He lied. "Kids, Rick and Michonne, Glenn, and Maggie."

"I bet you saw you and me too, huh?"

Daryl's heart stopped. "Huh?"

"I was probably annoying the shit out of you." She sat up, taking her head off of his shoulder, and moved so she was looking him in the eye. 

"My plan has always been to leave Alexandria at some point and move on."

Daryl physically shook his head. He wouldn't have that. He didn't know what he would do if she would just up and leave, but he wasn't sure if he could take losing someone else.

"I'm not going to do that." She told him. "As long as you're here... and Rick, and the entire group. You guys make me feel like I have a family." 

"You do." He told her. "We are."

She smiled, letting go of his hand so she could stand up. Once she was standing, she held her hand out to him to help him get up, and he took it, just tall enough to look down at her. 

He wanted nothing more than to grab her cheek and pull her into him, to envelope her into his warmth. 

"Then I ain't leavin', Daryl Dixon." 


	19. eighteen

The sun had just started to go down as Rory hammered the final nail into the newly built wall. 

It had almost been a ceremony. All of the workers that had worked on the wall with her cheered when she dropped the hammer, and Rosita had so much as jumped on her back. Everyone was there to watch, even Daryl, who stood next to Rick and Michonne and had shot her somewhat of a wink.

There was a party that night, with as much alcohol that they could find, and a special stew that Carol had cooked up. Alexandrians sang songs, and Rory took the kids to sit around a campfire and had begun to teach them a new crochet pattern, one that her mother had taught her, to make a blanket. 

The work was never done with her. She was always doing something to help the community, even if it was just for fun. 

She was just ecstatic to finally have the wall built. They were doing well for themselves, and it had been a few months since Daryl and Rory had gone to the school to get supplies. Since then they had found other places, and she, Daryl, and Rick were going to get even more the next day.

Routines were being built. 

Rory hated to admit that by the end of the night, she was more than tipsy. She wasn't one to drink at all, though she worked as a bartender, and she ended up at the fire alone after the kids had gone to bed, and the adults going with them, most of them as drunk as she was.

She didn't mind being alone at all.

She was a quiet drunk, not one that just stumbled around looking for more alcohol. However, Tara was a loud drunk, and she stumbled towards the fire, almost falling into it, sitting down next to Rory. 

"What are you still doing up?" Rory slurred, bringing her knees to her chest in the grass.

"I was walking Denise home." Tara gushed over her girlfriend by just saying her name, and Rory teased her for it, letting out a little _'ooh ahh'_ at her name.

"Shut up, shouldn't you be with Daryl right now?"

"Why would I be with Daryl right now?"

"I don't know, kissing him or something..." Tara giggled, smoothing out her ponytail. Rory elbowed her with a guffaw, and Tara rested her head on Rory's shoulder, giggling to herself. They had grown close over the few months, being close to each other with age. Rory had introduced her to Denise, and they had immediately clicked. 

Now the two gossiped with each other over everything. 

"I don't kiss Daryl Dixon."

"Yeah, but you hold his hand, just the other day you were getting a piggyback ride to the infirmary. I've never seen that blobfish of a man so happy."

"He was carrying me because I thought I sprained my ankle. He practically forced me to hold onto his back."

"Hm, so he cares about you."

"He cares about you too," Rory argued.

"Not like that. He doesn't look at me like he wants to kiss me every second like he does you. If he did, he would be in for some bad news." 

Rory rolled her eyes, resting her head on top of Tara's, but she couldn't help but agree with her in her head. Daryl was always looking at her, and it would take an idiot not to notice. It wasn't like she wasn't looking at him. If she heard someone say his name, her head was darting up to meet his eyes, and if they ever did, they would smile at each other.

The teasing from the family was endless, but she found that she didn't really mind it. It felt normal, and it almost felt good.

After keeping warm with Tara for a few more minutes, she decided to head to bed, after making sure Tara got home safely. She could barely stand as it was, definitely needing to eat something to soak up the alcohol as she walked home. For the moment, she stopped, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her jeans pocket that she had found on her last run and placing one in between her lips. 

She lit it up with her last match, shaking it and dropping it onto the ground. 

She took a few drags, letting the carcinogens fill her body and calm her nerves. It lessened the harshness of the alcohol flowing through her.

"Those things'll kill you." 

Rory jumped, feeling Daryl nudge her, nearly toppling over. Daryl plucked the cigarette from her fingertips, putting it in between his lips.

"Hey," She whined, trying to take it back.

"You're a doctor, you shouldn't smoke-"

"I was in nursing school for one year..." She slurred back, grabbing onto his arm. "You're mean."

Daryl chuckled, holding onto her arm so she didn't fall backward. 

"What's so funny?"

"You can't hold your liquor." He teased, helping her continue to walk towards her house. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't find the energy to shoot back a remark, letting Daryl lead her up the porch steps to her front door. 

"Keys please." Daryl held out his hand, and she grabbed them out of her back pocket, placing them into his palm.

A gust of cold night air brushed past the two of them, and she shivered, stepping inside of the house with Daryl. He didn't even let her try to balance to take off her boots, pulling her towards the couch and making her sit so he could unlace them for her. Then he stood, going off into the kitchen, and returned with a glass of water, ordering her to drink the whole thing down.

Rory looked up at him as she gulped the water down, noting the eye bags on his face, and the crease in between his eyebrows that she could never get rid of for more than a few hours. She reached up and rubbed it away, something she had made a habit of.

"What's wrong?" She asked, pulling the glass away from her lips.

"I'm fine. Tired is all..." He responded. "Need to find food and more meds tomorrow..."

"Have you been sleeping well, Dixon?" She grabbed his hand and barely had to make him sit down next to her on the couch. He was silent, but he shook his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes to look at her. 

Rory didn't have to speak, it was just a mutual agreement between them. Sometimes, late at night, Daryl would show up at her door, ever since that night at the school, and Rory would grab his hand, and lead him to the couch. Through the night they would always end up curled up together, and as long as they were enveloped in each other, they could sleep.

It had almost become an unhealthy habit, but it was one Rory didn't want to break. 

Rory shifted to lay down, looking at him in the dark, and could hear him kicking off his boots, and then felt his arms resting over his torso, his body sliding into the inside of the couch to hold her back to his chest. 

Rory didn't go to sleep until she knew he was. The telltale sign was his arms pulling her closer, and his breathing becoming rhythmic instead of ragged. Rory would always let out a breath of relief when she heard the rhythm, and she would turn to face him, and float to sleep like it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

The sound of a knock on the door woke the both of them up at the same moment, Rory, accidentally swatting him on the nose, all of their limbs completely tangled together.

"Fuck," She giggled as he jolted back, his hand gripping her hip for a moment as a reflex. "Sorry." 

" 's fine." He sighed, groaning as another knock echoed into the room. He lifted his arms off of her, and she slid off of the couch, tripping over pillows that they had knocked over in her sleep to get to the door. Before she could open it, Daryl called to her.

"R-"

"Yeah?"

"If it's Rick don't tell him I'm here."

"Why?"

"Gonna give us shit for it for the whole run." He rubbed at his eyes. Rory smiled, nodding, and opened the front door, seeing Daryl quickly move up the stairs before Rick could walk into the house.

"What's up?"

"You slept in," Rick remarked, adjusting his belt. "Leaving for the run in about twenty minutes."

"Shit, really?" She said, rubbing at her face. Her head was pounding from the alcohol the night before, and she groaned, moving to the couch and grabbing her boots to pull them on.

"You can tell Daryl to come downstairs." Rick laughed, putting his hands on his hips. Rory looked up, about to ask how he knew, but her eyes followed him, to Daryl's discarded boots on the floor beside the couch.

"Fun night last night?" Rick teased Daryl as he came down the stairs, barefoot. Daryl pushed him lightly, shaking his head.

"Shut up, man." 

"Yeah," Rory nodded. "Sex all night... surprised you didn't hear. Do you wanna know the positions and the-"

"Jesus Christ, Rory!" Daryl exclaimed, but a smile donned his face. 

She laughed, patting Rick's shoulder as she grabbed her backpack from the kitchen, pulling it on. She didn't bother changing her clothes, they would probably get covered in walker blood anyway. 

Within twenty minutes, they were outside and getting ready to leave, packing a car with weapons and duffel bags to place items in. 

The priority for the run was once again medical supplies. Denise had taken over as the head of the infirmary, and Rory only came in for emergencies. Rick had declared her as someone who was better at dealing with walkers and fighting, not stitching people up. She was honestly glad to get out of it. It had never been a passion of hers, just something she did to impress her mother. 

Daryl and Rory were getting ready to close the trunk when Denise walked past, and Daryl stopped her, pulling the list of things they needed out of his pocket. 

Rory immediately began to giggle. Denise was adorable with Tara, she had almost begged Rory to look out for what she needed, but with Daryl, she was a bit more nervous.

"You're talking about the drink, right?"

"I am,"

"It's not medical."

"No, I drew a line between the important stuff and that. I just figured if you saw it. Anything remotely medical is a priority. A-and food, maybe even food before medicine and gas or batteries or books for the kids or clothes is just... if you see it if it just happens to... you know, be right there."

"You like it right?"

"No, I don't drink pop." Denise scoffed.

"What the hell is pop?"

Rory let out a guffaw, wrapping her arm around Daryl's and rubbing it. "You're adorable, sir."

"Why you want it?" Daryl asked Denise, cheeks turning pink at Rory's remark.

"Tara was talking about it in her sleep, I think. Either she likes it or she doesn't, but if she likes it, it'd be a really nice surprise. I'm not good with that kind of stuff, and she and Heath are going on that two-week run." She waved her hands around. "I thought it would be a nice going-away present."

"It is," Rory reassured her. "She'll love it. You could bring that girl a grasshopper and she'd bring you the moon."

"Yeah, well, just don't go out of your way. If it gives you any trouble-"

"It won't." Daryl nodded, pulling Rory towards the gates, where Rick had pulled the car around while they were talking to Denise. She let out a laugh when they were far enough away from Denise.

"I wonder if I could ever gush over someone as much as Denise does Tara." She sighed, watching Eugene pull open the gates. Daryl scoffed as he popped open the trunk, throwing an extra bag in.

"You're a ball of sunshine, you gush over everyone, even Abraham."

"Shut up." She pushed him, and then crossed to the left of the car, getting into the backseat. She knew if she tried to ride shotgun, he would complain, so she didn't bother. 

Rory got comfortable as Eugene explained the places that they needed to go to, including a sorghum barn that would have some good grain. She saluted to Eugene as they pulled away, and Rick laughed about how weird he was. 

Rick was in a good mood as he drove, occasionally smiling at Rory as he glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Today's the day." He said as the went down the road from Alexandria.

"Uh-huh."

"We're gonna find food, maybe some people. The law of averages has gotta c catch up."

"I don't know." Daryl shrugged. "We ain't seen nobody for weeks, maybe we ain't gonna find nobody. Maybe that's a good thing."

Rory groaned, putting her feet up against his seat. "Party pooper."

Rick turned back and smiled at Rory, and then glanced at the CD player. She grinned and nodded, and that was all Rick needed to push in a CD.

"Don't. Please don't."

Rick began to snap, and Rory reached her hand through the seat to ruffle his hair as the music started. It was some rag-time song that she would hear at one of the diners in her neighborhood, and it almost gave her nostalgia. 

With her hands in his hair, she felt him de-stress, even as he groaned while Rick yelled something about drawing the walkers away from home.

They drove for a few miles up the road, until they passed by the Sorghum barn. Rick put the car in reverse, turning right to go straight towards him. He stopped the car right at the front of it, and they all got out, Rory stretching her spine a bit as she pulled out her knife to be prepared. 

They opened up a large barn door, finding a truck inside. Once opening that up, they found entire boxes of food, and Rory couldn't help but let out a cheer.

"Well, how bout that," Rick said, throwing an arm around her. She patted his shoulder for a moment before stepping into it and sifting upon cans and cans of food, seeing farther back, some cereal boxes, and gallons of water.

"Let's get this thing goin'," Rick explained as Daryl helped her jump down. "Grab our gear for the car later, take another way back, see what we can see."

"I can take the car." Rory offered, but Daryl shook his head. She could see he didn't want her going anywhere alone, and as much as she thought she was capable of handling herself, he wasn't going to let her.

"Think it'll start?" She asked as they pulled the truck closed.

"Yeah." 

The truck did start, and instead of taking the normal way back, they took a back road, eventually coming across a gas station. Rory asked Rick to stop, hoping that they would find the soda that Denise wanted for Tara as they searched. Her wish was granted when Daryl came across a vending machine fallen on its front.

"Gimme a hand with this," Daryl asked Rick and they tried to flip it over, but it was too heavy. Rory ended up tying a rope to it and using the truck to pull it over. 

"It's soda and candy. Why the trouble?

"It wasn't any trouble-"

Rory felt something push into her shoulder, with a hard force that pushed her directly into the gravel, her hands breaking her fall and scraping against it. She hissed, holding her knife up to what she thought was a walker, but when the figure pulled back, she could see it was a human, a man. He had long, brown hair, but all she could see what his eyes, a white bandana wrapped around his nose and mouth.

Daryl and Rick's guns were out in an instant.

"Back up, now!"

The man raised his hands, but he didn't look scared.

"Keep 'em up!"

"Whoa, easy guys. I was just running from the dead."

"How many?"

"Ten, maybe more. I'm not risking it, once it gets to double digits, I start running."

"Where?" Daryl questioned, clicking the safety off.

"About a half a mile back, they're headed this way. You probably have about eleven minutes."

"Okay," Rick lowered his gun, holding an arm out to help Rory stand. "Thanks for letting us know."

"Yeah, there's more them than us, right? Gotta stick together." His eyes moved to Daryl's gun, which was still raised. "Right?"

Daryl sighed, lowering his gun. The man's eyes flickered to Rory, who was holding her bleeding hands together, trying to stop the burning. 

"Sorry about that. You have a camp?"

"No," Daryl said, almost immediately. "You?"

"No. Sorry for running into you, again. I'm gonna go now. If this is the next world, I hope it's good for you guys."

Rory smiled at him, not truly seeing any problem with him as he started to walk away. 

"I'm Rick, this is Rory and Daryl. What's your name?"

He turned, pulling the white bandana off of his face to reveal a short beard covering a chiseled chin. He bowed, pressing his hand to his chest. "Paul Rovia," He held his arms out. "But my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick."

"You said you didn't have a camp. You on your own?"

"Yeah, but still, best not to try anything."

"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either." Daryl retorted, spitting onto the pavement.

"Exactly."

Rick tried to ask Jesus the famous question, 'How many walkers have you killed?', but Daryl stopped him with a slap on his arm as Jesus ran away, seeming uninterested in the question. Rory had been working on getting the gravel out of her hand with her fingernails, hoping that Daryl had packed some gauze in the bag on his back. 

"What the hell was that?" Daryl asked Rick.

"He was clean, his beard, it was trimmed. There's more going on there. He didn't have a gun, either. We could track him, watching him for a while, get to know more, see if he's really alone." He sighed. "Maybe bring him back."

Rory nodded with a lopsided smile. "I liked him."

Daryl snorted. "Nah, guy calls himself Jesus."

Rory opened her mouth to ask for gauze, but was interrupted at the sound of gunshots popping off in the distance. She grabbed her gun from her hip and followed Rick down towards behind the gas station, to see that it was firecrackers going off in the trash can. Daryl grabbed onto Rory's shoulder as if to brace himself.

"Rick, he swiped your keys, didn't he?" 

"Oh, shit!" They ran back, but Jesus was already driving off, the vending machine still chained to the truck. Jesus yelled an apology, but Rory just cursed at him, holding up her middle finger. 

"Fuck's sakes!" She kicked the tire of a broken down car, trying to ignore the pain in her hands. Daryl sighed, grabbing the bag off of his back and kneeling down.

"Rory, c' mere-"

"That asshole! We tried to help him and-"

"Sunshine," Daryl sighed. "Come here." 

Rory, resigned, walked towards him, and kneeled down in front of him. He pulled out a bottle of alcohol and doused it over both of her hands, and then wrapped them with gauze quickly, as Rick looked out towards the road Jesus had driven down, plotting a plan in his head. 

After wrapping her hands, they ran for a bit down the road, trying to see if he had stopped, eventually reaching the vending machine that had broken off. Daryl cracked it open with a crowbar and shoved the snacks inside of his bag, before searching through more broken glass, until he found what he wanted. He held up the Orange Crush to Rory and she cheered, helping him open the bag wider to throw them in.

"This was a special request from the doctor." He said, grabbing a can that had cracked open from the impact of the glass, and shotgunning it into his mouth. He handed it to Rory, and she took a drink of the sweet nectar, smiling.

"Whatever she wants." Rick nodded. "She saved Carl's life."

Rick decided to press on a bit more. "We didn't know her and she turned out to be alright. If there are still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring them in."

"Not this guy," Rory exclaimed, zipping up the bag and putting it back on Daryl's shoulders.

"No, not this guy."

"We still got a trail." He sighed. They continued to run down the road, and the more they ran, the more Rory realized she should have paid attention in PE class in high school. She was able to keep up with them, but they were like superhumans, never even stopping for breath until they found a clue. 

They ran for about a mile before they found Jesus and the truck, and Rory was ready to head towards him, gun loaded and ready. He had to pull her back by her shirt and lead Rick and her to the woods surrounding the road so they could go around. They hid behind a tree, watching him, and when the time was right, as Jesus was pulling down the hood of the truck, Rick snuck up on him, grabbing him.

"Hold still, and maybe we won't hurt you."

Jesus seemed amused as Rory came out of the shadows with Daryl, their guns raised. "Sure thing."

Then Jesus was pulling some quick maneuver on Rick that left him wheezing on his knees, and Daryl was dropping his gun, trying to fight Jesus back. Rory was unsure what to do, so she waited until Daryl had fallen back from Jesus's attacks, and used her feet to swipe his ankles, and pushed him to the ground, straddling him and holding her gun to his forehead. 

"You're done, Jesus." She spat, pushing her knee into his chest. She could hear a walker nearby.

"You even have any ammo?" He asked her, smiling. She rolled her eyes, and held her gun up to the walker, shooting it. He took this opportunity to use his hips to push her off of him, but Rick pushed him back down with his foot as Rory stood up. He wasn't getting out of it.

"Okay, you gonna shoot me over a truck?"

"There's a lot of food on that truck. Keys, now."

"I think you know I'm not a bad guy."

"Yeah, what do you know about us? Give me the keys."

Rick pushed his gun closer to Jesus's head. 

"This is the last time I'm asking."


	20. nineteen

They had left Jesus in knots that he would eventually be able to get out of, but when the group and the truck were long gone.

Now that they had rid of that coward, Daryl was able to focus on Rory, who was sat in between him and Rick, her feet on the dash. She had let her hair down out of her ponytail and let it blow from the breeze coming from the windows, as she chewed on Kit-Kat, singing to the song on the tape deck. It seemed to be someone she recognized.

One of her eyes opened, and she caught him looking at her, handing him the other piece of Kit-Kat. He took a bite and traded her a piece of candy that he was eating, that she popped in her mouth, smiling. She handed a piece to Rick.

"You seem happy," Rick noted, turning the music down. She hummed.

"It is always a good day when an asshole doesn't get the satisfaction of taking a piss out of you." 

Daryl threw a wrapper out of the window, and poked underneath her ribs, getting her to giggle and take her feet off the dash in a jolt.

"The day is still young." He told her, sticking his tongue out for a moment. Rick smiled, shaking his head.

"You two..." His words slowed as his eyes came across something. Both Daryl and Rory looked up.

"A barn." She remarked.

Rory jumped, startled at the sound of a thud on the roof of the truck, and grabbed onto Daryl's hand at the sound of another, looking up. 

"You hear that?" She asked him.

"I think that son of a bitch is on the roof." Daryl scoffed as Rick pulled into the fields of the barn. Rick cursed under his breath, slamming on the breaks, and sending Jesus flying off of the truck. Once Jesus was standing up, he stared at them for a minute, before taking off in the North direction. Rick wasn't having it, accelerating the truck towards him.

Daryl, before Rory or Rick could stop him, jumped out of the truck, chasing after him on foot. He was pissed. 

He had pushed Rory over, made her bleed, tried to steal their food... those actions weren't something that Daryl was particularly fond of. This guy deserved to get his ass handed to him, and he wasn't going to let him get away. 

Daryl chased him all across the field as Rick tried to get in between them with the truck until eventually, the truck stopped, and Rory and Rick got out. Rory started running towards Daryl and Jesus, as Rick tended to some walkers that had come in from the woods.

"We came to a conclusion asshole!" Daryl scoffed as Jesus zipped away from Rory's grip, the both of them coming side to side.

Jesus eventually made his rounds back to the truck and tried to climb in, but Daryl was quick, grabbing at him in the driver's seat. Rory grabbed him by the passenger's side, and Daryl swore she could hear her breath stop as he pointed his own gun at him, but then he said a single word.

"Duck." 

Daryl did, and Jesus shot down a walker coming right at them.

"Thanks," Daryl knocked his fist into Jesus's jaw, but it still wouldn't knock him out. As they brawled, Rory trying to push his shoulders down, Jesus's foot knocked against the shift, making it go into reverse, directly towards the lake. 

"Daryl,"

"C'mere, you little shit!"

"Daryl, jump off!" Rory yelled at him, and the three of them jumped out of the truck, watching it roll straight into the lake behind them. Daryl felt his ears go hot as he ran towards the truck, knowing there was no way to save it. Jesus had somehow been knocked unconscious, and Rory was on her knees, staring at the water like she was hoping she could levitate the truck out of it. 

"Rory," Daryl walked up to her, knocking his boot against her knee. "You alright?"

"The soda was in there." She whispered, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. Daryl felt his heart flip. She was close to crying because of soda, a gift that wasn't even for her. He patted her shoulder, almost wanting to laugh at her.

"Denise won't be mad," He wrapped his arm around her. "C'mon." 

"You alright?" Rick asked, wiping walker blood from his face.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "Law of averages."

"That's bullshit man."

"Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here."

"What about him?" Rory asked, nodding her head towards Jesus.

"What about that guy?" Daryl scoffed.

"Well, he helped you." Rick pointed out. 

"Maybe." Daryl sighed.

"He ever pull a weapon on you?"

"FINE!" Daryl grunted out, walking towards Jesus and grabbing his wrists, beginning to pull him. "Let's put him up a tree." 

"We're not doing that," Rory told him with a stern voice, and he knew her word would go, right after she said it. He sighed, dropping Jesus's wrist. Rory helped tie him up for when he woke up, as Rick got a car ready to go. 

"You know, you acted like he killed my firstborn child." She smiled at Daryl as she grabbed Jesus's ankles and led him inside the car. Daryl glanced at her, shrugging, and she sighed. She was desperate to know what he was always hiding in that mind of his. Every look he gave her had a secret behind it. 

"Just didn't like how he pushed you."

"I'm a big girl." 

"I know." He nodded, pushing Jesus upright into the backseat of the car. Rick had just finished hotwiring it, turning the A/C on and off to see if it was working. Rory tried to climb into the backseat, but Daryl stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"You're not sitting next to that asshole." He took her place, and Rory shook her head, climbing into the passenger's seat next to Rick.

"So much for being a big girl." Rick teased, and Rory shrugged.

"Kids sit in the backseat, so this is pretty accurate."

Rick let out a bellowing laugh as he drove back onto the road. Rory was glad to see that he was still in good mood, despite losing the truck. It seemed that he had hope for the future, and she was glad one of them did. 

"He took a pretty hard hit." Rick pointed out. "Denise needs to look him over." 

"Yeah."

"You wouldn't have gone through with it, you wouldn't have left him," Rick told Daryl, but it seemed to be more of a question than a statement.

"I would've, right up in a tree. I would've."

"No. I know. Almost as soon as we got to Alexandria, you got it. You saw- you... and Michonne, and Glenn, you all tried to tell me. So shut up." The car jolted over a pothole, and Jesus's head fell to Daryl's head. He pushed it off with an angry grunt. "'Cause I'm finally listening."

Rory was unsure what exactly Rick was talking about, but she knew it had something to do with trust. Daryl was having a hard time trusting anyone after everything they had gone through, and Rick was starting to trust people more. He even came to Rory for advice on Alexandria sometimes, not that Daryl had any particular problems with Rory. 

It was dark when they reached the gates of Alexandria, Jesus still unconscious at Daryl's side. As the gate opened slowly, Daryl cleared his throat.

"I was thinking... back before we went out to the quarry. The morning after Reg and Pete. You said we shouldn't be lookin' for people no more. You were right."

"No. I was wrong. You were right." Rick retorted. Daryl didn't push the issue, and neither did Rory, as much as she'd have liked to. 

She was skeptical about new people as much as Daryl was, but she knew that they were essential to building Alexandria up. She also knew what it was like to be a new person, and have no one trust her. They all had to believe that there was still human decency out there, and people who want to help.

Daryl and Rory carried Jesus, with a lot of struggling, to Denise's house, which had started to double as the infirmary. When Denise opened the door, she also revealed Tara, who was rubbing at her eyes and squinting at the porch light.

"Who's this?"

"Come on, it's heavy!" He grunted as Rory tried to keep a grip on Jesus's ankles. "Oh, that thing, it didn't work out." He added as an afterthought.

"His fault." Rory sighed, nodding to the unconscious man. "Don't blame us."

Denise sighed. "Lay him on the bed."

"He ain't stayin' though."

Hours seemed to pass as Denise checked Jesus out, concluding that he had a concussion. Daryl made Denise look at Rory's hands too, disregarding the fact that Rory said she was fine. Denise was able to get out the tiny pieces of gravel in her palms that she couldn't get with her fingers, and wrap it properly, throwing out the blood-soaked bandages from earlier in the day.

Then Rick returned, and they put him in a basement of a house that didn't yet belong to anyone, leaving Jesus a note and a glass of water on the floor next to him. As Rory was about to leave, she realized that Daryl had sat down on the stairs. 

She said goodbye to Rick for the night and then turned to Daryl, sitting down next to him. He scooted over, giving her some room, but the moment she was situated, she wrapped her arm around his, and let her head go limp onto his shoulder.

"You alright?" He asked her. She sighed.

"Tired."

"Go to bed then."

"You're warmer. More comfortable."

She could already feel herself getting tired on his shoulder, her body becoming lax. She hated to admit that if Daryl wasn't with her, she hardly ever fell completely asleep, almost like she was in a lucid state, constantly aware of what was around her. She lost herself in Daryl's warmth, on that couch, and every time he wasn't there, it felt like something was missing.

Rory was close to being asleep on the staircase until she felt a hand pat her cheek lightly.

"Go home and get some real sleep, Rory." 

"You want me to leave?" She mumbled into his sleeve.

"No, but I'll be there later." 

Rory smiled, lifting her head to look up at him. She could see how tired he was too, his eyes blinking slowly to look down at his hands clasped in his lap. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him. 

Her heart was beating as she left to walk home, and it was becoming less and less of a secret to herself why.

The more she was away from Daryl, the emptier she felt.


	21. twenty

Daryl had left the basement an hour after Rory had gone to bed, Spencer, Deanna's only living descendant, took his place.

Before Daryl left, Spencer stopped him on the staircase with a hand on his shoulder, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"Hey um... how's Rory?"

He didn't know why, but that bothered him. 

"Why you askin' me? You could ask her."

"I haven't talked to her since my mom... you know. I don't know..." He scratched the back of his head. "You guys seem pretty close, I thought you would know."

Daryl sniffed, stepping off of the staircase and shrugging. "She's fine."

Spencer sat where he had just been sitting. "I've been thinking about... talking to her." 

"Again," Daryl asked, getting frustrated and desperate to leave. "Why you askin' me?"

"Well uh... is she into anything?"

Daryl sighed. He had talked to Rory plenty of times on runs and made small talk. He could tell him plenty of things; that her favorite color was violet, her favorite movie was _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ , that she had a goddamned McDonalds less than five minutes away from her childhood home. They were things that Daryl didn't even feel worthy knowing about. 

On one hand, Daryl didn't want to tell Spencer shit. He was selfish in that way. It almost felt like that information was only for him because he hadn't seen anyone ask her about what fast-food chain she was missing that day but him. Only he had a daisy petal in his pocket from her, and most importantly, he was the only one that slept with her at night.

But on the other hand, he didn't deserve her. He was broken and constantly on edge. Maybe she needed someone like Spencer. He was an asshole, but he would treat her well enough. 

Daryl didn't know what to do. He shrugged at Spencer, opening the door to leave.

"She likes music."

He left after that, walking directly to Rory's house. She had left the front door unlocked for him as he came up the steps, something Daryl wasn't fond of her doing, but all of that worry started to wash away when he heard a light snore, not from the couch, but from upstairs. 

He locked the door behind him, and slowly walked up the stairs, finding Rory asleep in her bed. She had even changed into pajamas for once, and her hair was damp from a shower. 

Rory had never slept in her bed before, she had told him that herself. He almost smiled at the sight of it, sitting at the empty side and pulling his boots off, and laying his gun and knives down on the nightstand. He turned out the lights after that, blindly shuffling back to the bed, and laid down. 

After a few moments, Rory's arms were around his torso, subconsciously, and he was able to fall asleep within minutes, something he hadn't been able to do years before the apocalypse had ever started. 

No matter how comforting the bed or Rory's arms were, he still slept in a light sleep, so every time Rory shifted, he felt it. He didn't mind, he found it nice, knowing that she was there outside of his half-asleep brain. 

Daryl woke up before Rory, and before the sun. He could see from her bedroom window that the sky was a dark blue, the room barely being lit from it. He could see, however, Rory's chest rising and falling from where she was huddled into his side, her arm around his torso. 

It felt so intimate. This was her most vulnerable state, and Rory had let him into it, and she had no problem with it. When she woke up, and her eyes fluttered open, she only smiled at him.

She just _smiled_ at him.

It was so natural and normal. He wanted it for the rest of his life, though he knew it wasn't possible. Someone like Spencer would sweep her up eventually. 

"G'morning." She mumbled, turning her head for a slight moment to look at him. He smiled at her, grunting a response, and she reached up, ruffling his shaggy hair that had fallen into his face as he slept.

"You need a haircut, Dixon." 

Daryl ignored the remark as she continued playing with his hair, moving it to tuck it behind his ears. 

"Why... why did you sleep in the bed today?" 

Rory swallowed, her hand moving away from his hair, and for a moment he was worried he had crossed a line. She pushed herself up on the bed and sat cross-legged, facing him. 

"I... I didn't sleep in beds for a long time. They reminded me of my dad. There was never a time I could sleep peacefully in a bed. I was always scared... always crying." 

Daryl's eyes flickered away from her, unable to confront her trauma. 

"But I thought... fuck it. He's dead, he can't hurt me anymore." She shook her head, and he looked back at her. "They're all d..." 

Her voice broke at the last word, and he took the chance to lean forward and grab her hand. It was the least he could do. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, hands on top of each other, staring off into space, unable to say much else.

Then she turned her head to look at the window, and Daryl didn't think he could hear anything more magical than the sound of her voice when she was happy.

"Look at the sky!" She exclaimed. 

Daryl's eyes flickered to her and then the window, to see that the dark blue had mixed in with hues of pink and yellow, creating a beautiful paint palette in the sky. He watched over it, and then looked to her.

It was obvious that his admiration over her was much larger than the colors in the sky. 

"C'mon." She told him, pulling on his arm so he would stand up. He did, with an annoyed grunt.

"What're you doin'?"

"We're going outside to get a better view." 

Daryl's eyes rolled, and he quickly grabbed his gun and boots to pull on once they made it to the porch. She pulled him all the way down the stairs and out the door, herself still being without shoes. 

They sat down next to each other on the porch as Daryl laced his boots up, and Rory looked up at the sky.

"Good to see some things don't change, you know?"

"Hm?"

"I mean, there are things out there," She pointed to the newly built walls. "That want to eat us 24/7, but at least the sky remains untouched." 

"How do you do that?" Daryl couldn't help but ask.

"Do what?" 

"Talk like that. Sound so damn... I don't know. Make everything sound nice."

She giggled, about to speak, when her smile faded at the sight of something across the street. Daryl turned to look at it, witnessing Spencer running out of the basement and towards Rick's house. Before he even turned back to say something to Rory, she was running off after Spencer, barefoot and still in her pajamas. 

When the two of them caught of with him, he told them that Jesus had escaped because he had fallen asleep. Daryl had tried to scold him, pushing his shoulder and calling him an idiot, but Rory took no time doing that, simply telling Spencer to go back to his house and running toward's Rick's place.

She didn't even knock on the door, she just barged in, Daryl right behind her with his gun raised just in case. 

The door opening revealed Jesus sat on the stairs, holding a painting, with Carl pointing a gun at his head. Sasha, Glenn, and Abraham were also on the stairs, and behind Carl, a half-naked Michonne and Rick stood, seeming surprised, embarrassed, and pissed off. 

"Why in the fuck are Rick and Michonne wearing little clothing?" Rory asked.

"That's what you're asking?" Jesus chuckled. "I like her. Didn't even bother getting dressed for this." 

"You said we should talk, so let's talk." Rick spoke up, pushing Carl's armored hand out of the way. 

Jesus agreed to this, and Rick instructed Daryl to take him downstairs and sit him in the dining room while Rick and Michonne got decent. Maggie ended up coming in to see her husband, and staying when she realized that Jesus had gotten out, not trusting him. Rory ended up going back home and returning, fully clothed and fully loaded with her gun and knife, with a mug of coffee in her hands, which she let Daryl have a few sips of as he kept his eyes on Jesus, never moving them. She had also brought Jesus a cookie that Carol had made her, assuming that he had been hungry from being knocked out for half a day.

Daryl didn't know why, but it bothered him.

When everyone was ready, and the sun was fully up, they all surrounded Jesus, Rory sat next to Carl. 

"So, Spencer was asleep. That's how you got out?" Rory asked. 

"That, and the fact that one guard can't cover two exits... or third-floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?"

Daryl could already feel himself getting frustrated. He rolled his eyes and nodded, dripping with sarcasm. "Right."

"I checked out your arsenal." Jesus crossed his legs. "I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well equipped, but your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. Fifty-four?"

"More than that." Maggie crossed her arms.

"Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef."

"Yeah, she ain't here." Daryl spat. 

"Look," Jesus looked up at him with a cocky little smile that Daryl wanted to slap off. "We got off to a bad start, but we're on the same side - the living side. You, Rory, and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't." His eyes flickered to Rick. "I'm from a place that's a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with."

Rory propped her elbows up on the table and narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, you were lookin' to trade that truck, were you?"

"I took your truck because my community needs things, and all three of you looked like trouble."

Rory snorted, and Jesus tried to put emphasis on his words as he looked at her.

" _I was wrong_. You're good people, and this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other."

"Do you have food?" Glenn asked as he rubbed his eyes. Maggie put a hand on his shoulder. He seemed exhausted, and annoyed. Tired of trusting new people all the time. Daryl knew how he felt.

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

"Show us." Rory told him, leaning back in her chair. "That's the only way I'll believe you." 

Daryl cursed at Rory in his head. He didn't look trustworthy at all, but when he looked at her, he could see the hope in her eyes that there was something there. She was desperate for anything, something more to hold on to than a beautiful sunrise. She wanted life, not just surviving. He didn't see that as a possibility anymore.

"If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

"Wait," Maggie put her hands on the table. "You're looking for more settlements. You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

Jesus sat back, uncrossing his legs with a smile. He shrugged, knowing that he was drawing them in. Daryl didn't like it, but he couldn't lie and say he wasn't intrigued as Jesus spoke.

"Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger."


	22. twenty-one

It could be a change in everything. The start of everything. 

Communities, living and not surviving, grocery stores, movie theaters, _happiness_.

Rory couldn't stop thinking about it, even as she was replacing a tire onto the motorhome that would be carrying her group to Jesus's home. 

If Jesus was telling the truth, it would all be different.

"Hey," 

Rory sighed. Speak of the devil.

"Need some help with that?"

Rory dropped the tire gauge and shook her head, standing up from the ground and brushing the gravel that had embedded into her knees. She shook her head.

"Just finished." 

Jesus smiled, pulling his beanie off of his head, pushing the creases out, and then putting it back over his long hair. "I wanted to thank you."

"For what?" 

"For believing in what I have to say."

"I don't believe you just yet." Rory retorted. "But I'm willing to. However," She pulled her knife out of its sheath and held it up to him, showing off the blade. "If you're lying, you'll be getting a not-so-fun haircut. Something that it seems you haven't had for twenty years." 

Jesus raised his hands. "I won't let you down, Edward Scissorhands."

"Man," Rory walked away from him and over to Daryl, who was making sure the engine was going to run in the front of the motorhome. "I hope he isn't lying so I can be friends with him."

Daryl scoffed, twisting the cap back onto the oil after checking it. "That right?"

"He made a _movie reference_ Daryl, he's my kind."

"The annoying kind." He teased, and she pushed his bicep.

"Hey!" Denise came up behind them, a kind smile on her face. She held up two cookie-looking things wrapped in plastic, one in each hand for both of them.

"Here."

Rory took hers. "What is it?"

"Homemade oat cake. Complex carbohydrates, omega-3s."

"I'm good." Daryl expressed, closing the hood of the motorhome. "We're gonna make a pit stop, I'll pick up something then."

"Like rabies?" Denise asked, referring to all of the times he came to Alexandria after a run with a possum or squirrel in his hands. Rory raised her eyebrows.

"Valid point."

"Is this 'cause we tried to get you that stuff?"

"Yeah, and you remind me of someone I used to know. And her," Denise pointed to Rory. "She's my friend, so I made her one."

"Well..." Daryl took his and put it in his pocket. "I hope it tastes better than it looks, 'cause it looks like shit."

"Shit's still better than roadkill," Denise responded, walking away with a roll of her eyes. Rory nudged Daryl with her elbow, glaring at him.

"Dick."

"Hey!" Abraham called to the group. "Let's chew up some asphalt."

"Come on, sunshine." Daryl swatted her arm, and she followed him into the motorhome, mocking his voice as she sat herself down onto the couch, already exhausted from the start of the day. 

Michonne, Rick, Abraham, Glenn, and Maggie had all decided to tag along, though Rory was worried specifically for Maggie, who was early in her pregnancy. She could see Glenn was nervous too, his hand on her belly as she rested on him.

She listened to Glenn explain to Abraham that the pregnancy had actually been somewhat planned, and she shut her eyes to stop herself from cringing. She couldn't imagine bringing a baby into the new world, even with the dream of repopulation. 

She wondered if someday she'd be able to trust anyone to be the father of her child. She tried not to meet eyes with Daryl as she thought about it.

Rory ended up playing blackjack with Abraham for almost two hours after that, not able to win any round against his genius mind. Daryl kept his eyes on Jesus, but occasionally looked down at the game at hand, and the silent laughs Rory would make at Abraham when she would get something right.

They stopped playing when the motorhome slowed down, and the smell of smoke filled all of their noses. Daryl flung open the blinds, and Rory set down her cards, peering out the window to see a flipped car, with a walker stuck underneath it.

"Yo, Rick, what's going on?"

'Crash ahead. Looks like it just happened."

"It's one of ours!" Jesus yelled, darting up. Rory followed after him, and then the rest of the group, guns in hand. Rick had his gun pointed up at Jesus as he examined the damage, finding another walker on top of the car on the other side.

The smell was terrible. Rotting flesh mixed with a smoking engine. It made Rory want to vomit onto her own shoes, but she kept it down, pulling out her knife and putting the walkers out of their misery.

"If this is a trick," Rick told Jesus, "It won't end well for you."

"My people are in trouble. They don't..." He groaned. "We don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but it'll play out. Can I borrow a gun?"

"No," Daryl spoke for Rick, pointing at the gravel road. "We got tracks right here."

They walked about fifty feet down, finding a broken-down, white bank or some sort of office, at the end of the road, where the tracks ended. 

"They gotta be in there. We moving in, or what?" Jesus asked frantically. Rory could see he was desperate for something, even if he was lying about his friends. She could also see that Daryl didn't trust it at all.

"How do we know this ain't firecrackers in a trash can?"

"You don't." Jesus sighed.

"Okay," Rory said. "Suggestion. He stays here, we go in." 

"Yeah," Rick nodded. "You stay here with one of us." He told Jesus. Glenn turned to Maggie.

"Will you stay?"

"Yeah, y'all go. Just be careful."

"Yeah, we will."

"Hurry!" Jesus said, his eyes flickering specifically to Rory, who seemed to be the one he relied on the most now. Rory wasn't sure if she liked how trustworthy she was acting towards him, but she was desperate for this plan to work. She nodded to him, following Daryl into the building. Before Rick walked in, he turned to Maggie.

"You hear me whistle, shoot him."

Maggie nodded, saying something Rory couldn't hear because Daryl was pulling the glass door closed and making sure it stayed shut.

They split up, Michonne and Rick going one way, and Rory, Glenn, and Daryl going another. Abraham, being the largest and quite possibly the strongest, went alone down a separate hallway.

Daryl was being extra protective of walkers around Rory, like he normally was, taking one down before it had even gotten five feet in front of her. Eventually, after getting through about five, she took one down for him, giving him a look that she could get by on her own.

After getting rid of one in front of a door, Glenn pushed it open, and they found two of Jesus's friends huddled in a corner.

"We're with Jesus," Glenn reassured, pulling them from their hiding spot. "Let's go."

One of them, with scraggly hair and short stubble, shook his head. "I can't go with you. I'm looking for my friend. He's close, and he's hurt from the crash."

"Jesus..." Rory sighed impatiently, grabbing the man and pulling him out of the room. Whoever his friend had been was dead, and she told him that as she dragged him through to the entrance.

They regrouped with the rest of them, coming out from where they had gone in. Jesus greeted his friends with hugs, helping two injured ones that Rick and Michonne had found into the motorhome. 

Once they were back on the road, she sat down next to Daryl, resting her head on his shoulder. She cleaned her knife with a handkerchief lazily, until Daryl took it out of her hands, scared that she might cut herself while dozing off, calling her an idiot.

She smiled at his remark as they rested, feeling him lean into her. Maybe she would have dozed off if she hadn't heard Daryl talking to someone. She kept her eyes closed, hoping Daryl wouldn't notice that she was awake.

"My name is Harlan. How long have you two been together?" She could tell it was the man with the scruff. He had just been talking to Maggie and Glenn about getting her prenatal vitamins.

"We ain't," Daryl responded grisly.

"I'm sorry, it just..."

"It's alright," Daryl responded, clearing his throat. 

"You two look good together," Jesus remarked, and Rory tried not to smile with her eyes closed, biting the insides of her cheeks. "Like Bonnie and Clyde."

"Come on man," Abraham scoffed. "You haven't hit that?"

"You best shut the hell up before I make you," Daryl grunted, and Rory pushed her laughter down, almost giving herself away.

"I'm just sayin'..." Abraham started. "It's nice... fighting when you have something to lose. Fighting with nothing to lose doesn't even feel like fighting."

Rory felt the laughter in her belly fall away at Abraham's words. There was a time when she hadn't wanted to live anymore in this world, but that had died away since, and she hadn't realized it.

She had something to lose now. She wanted to live for Daryl, and for the rest of them. Rory had a family now, people that treated her as more than a liability. 

On Daryl's shoulder is where Rory remained until she heard tires screeching, and she pretended to jolt away, pushing herself off of him with a gentle hand. She peered out of the window to see that they had gotten stuck in the mud.

"A storm must have passed through." Rick groaned. "We're stuck."

"No worries." Jesus stood with a smile. "We're here." He pushed the door open, and the group followed them out, Rory helping carry one of the injured friends that he had retrieved on her shoulder.

"That's us." Jesus pointed to rusted walls much like the ones Rory had built. "That's the Hilltop."

Rory smiled as they walked up the muddy hill, approaching large doors secured by wooden posts. 

"Stop right there!" Two of them yelled from the top of the walls, and the entire group was quick to pull their guns out and point them to the group.

"You gonna make us?" Daryl spat.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" The one on the left of the wall yelled to him.

"Open the gates, Cal. Freddie's hurt. Look," He turned to Rick. "Sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothin'."

"They give up the weapons, then we'll open the gates." The one on the right of the wall called, holding up a spear to throw down at them. Rory hobbled forward with Freddie on her arm, but Daryl held his hand out to stop her from walking in front of him.

"Open the gates, assholes!" 

"We can vouch for these people," Harlan remarked. "They saved us out there. Lower the spears."

"Look," Rick lowered his gun to look at Jesus. "I'm not taking any chances. Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No. Don't you see what just happened?" Jesus scoffed. "I'm letting you keep your guns. Look, we ran out of ammo months ago. I like you people, I trust you. Trust us."

Rick sighed for a moment, and then nodded, making a gesture for everyone to lower their guns. Jesus ordered Cal to open the gates, which they did hesitantly, revealing a community on the inside. As they walked in, Rory watched kids play as they did at Alexandria, running towards trailers, where she assumed they lived. People were cooking, chasing chickens around a yard, and riding horses.

Next to the trailers, was a big mansion-like house, where she assumed this man Gregory resided.

Rory handed Freddie off to Harlan, who let her know where the medical trailer was just in case she needed it. She nodded thanks to him with a smile.

It was real. Jesus wasn't lying. This place was the start of something, she could see it. 

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby," Jesus explained. "That's how we put up the walls. A lot of people came from a FEMA camp, trailers came with them."

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne asked. Rory had just caught up with them, walking behind Rick, completely awestruck at everything around her. 

Jesus pointed up at the large mansion.

"That's called Barrington House. The family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for fifty miles used to come here for field trips. The place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down." He pointed up at the top floor. "Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security."

"It's beautiful," Maggie remarked, making Jesus smile proudly.

"Come on, I'll show you inside."

Jesus led them up the porch steps and into the mansion, and Rory couldn't help the gasp that left her lips. There was a large spiral staircase, red velvet carpeting, Victorian paintings on the wall like it was something out of a Shakespeare play. Looking up, the staircase led up for several floors. 

She grabbed a marble bust set on a coffee table and flicked Daryl's arm, holding it up over her head.

 _"To be, or not to be, that is the question."_ She recited with the statue, and he snorted, pushing the statue down to look at her face. She stuck her tongue out at him and set the bust back down onto the table. He shook his head with a silent laugh. 

"Most of the rooms have been converted to living spaces, even the ones that weren't bedrooms." Jesus pointed to the doors. 

"People live here and the trailers?"

"We plan to build. There are babies being born."

A door opening to the right of them caused Daryl and Rory both to whip around cautiously, and their eyes fell upon an older man, dressed fancifully. He had somewhat of a mischievous smile, and he put his hands on his hips.

"Jesus. You're back with guests!"

"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here."

"I'm the boss." Gregory corrected.

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community-"

"Why don't y'all get cleaned up, hm?"

Rick smiled. "We're fine."

"Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready. It's hard to keep this place clean."

Rick looked over at Jesus and then nodded. "Yeah, sure." 

Rory scoffed as she followed Jesus up the stairs, turning to Daryl. He sniffed, clicking the safety on and off on his gun. She gestured to Gregory, who was still standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"What you think of him?"

"Well sunshine, I think he's full of shit."


	23. twenty-two

_"How long do you think Rick and Michonne been uggin' bumplies?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"You ever think about it? Settlin' down... with Rory?"_

_"You think shit's settled?"_

Daryl couldn't stop thinking about his five-second conversation with Abraham while Rory had been in the shower. He had immediately regretted saying it afterward, rushing out of the room, to back downstairs.

Rory had been downstairs by the time he got there, saying something to Jesus silently with a smile, her hair still wavy and damp from washing herself. She laughed at something he said, and he felt his heart pang. It panged, even more, when her head turned and she smiled wider at the sight of him.

Nobody looked at him like that.

The rest of the group came down after a while and waited for Maggie, who Rick had sent in place of him. He knew Maggie would be the calmest about the situation. Daryl certainly wouldn't be able to get through talking to that man without slugging in the face once, that was for sure.

Maggie came back with a somber look on her face, immediately showing that Gregory was a no go.

"He basically just hit on me and called me Natalie the whole time. Said we could work for him."

"Alright," Rory scoffed, standing up from where she was sitting next to Jesus. "I'll have a talk with this motherfucker-"

"Rory, please." Jesus pressed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back down to the couch. Daryl pretended to not be bothered by how easily he persuaded her. He looked up at the group.

"We want to generate a trade. Gregory does. But ammo isn't something we urgently need?"

"Ammo is something all of us need all the time." Rory expressed. The group nodded in agreement.

"The walls hold," Jesus explained. "We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible." 

"Yeah," Daryl looked at Jesus in the eye. "Well, we want things too."

"We need food." Rick expressed, rubbing his hands over his sweaty face. "We came all this way, we're gonna get it."

"I will talk to him and we will work this out. Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

Before Rick could answer, Michonne nodded, and Daryl understood why. This was an opportunity they couldn't pass up, even if they had to wait. 

"Yeah." Rick agreed with her. Jesus smiled softly, pressing his fingertips to his lips. Rory patted his shoulder, and in a half-joking manner, shook him. "Don't fuck this up, Goldilocks. I told you what I'd do to your precious head of hair."

"Yeah, yeah." He nodded with a chuckle. "I know."

The front door of the house opened, and a panicked man, sweaty and panting, barged in. The room that Gregory was in opened at the same time, and they faced each other.

"What's wrong?"

"They're back." The man panted out, running back out of the house. The group followed him out, Gregory leading. 

"Nathan, what happened to everyone else? Where's Tim and Marsha?"

"They're dead," Nathan responded, approaching a man and a woman. Daryl moved across the area, to where Rory was standing next to Jesus, in case someone decided to attack.

"Negan?" Gregory asked.

"Yeah."

Daryl froze. It was the same name as that motorcycle group that had shot Rory. He felt her tense next to him.

"We had a deal." Gregory scoffed.

"He said it wasn't enough." The man in the back exclaimed. "Was the drop light?"

"No." Gregory shook his head.

"They still have Craig." The woman exclaimed. 

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us if I deliver a message to you."

Daryl felt Rory's hand brush against his for a moment as they watched the situation unfold.

"So tell me."

Nathan put his hand on Gregory's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He drove a knife that was in his fist into Gregory's stomach. Rick immediately grabbed him, attacking him and pummeling him to the ground. Daryl helped get Gregory safely onto the ground and then turned, to see that Rory had gone after the man who had stood in the back, and his hands were tight around her throat. She was trying to stab him, but her arms were going limp, her face almost purple.

Daryl saw red, his body beginning to vibrate, and he ran up to the man and grabbed his arm, pulling it against his chest in a direction it wasn't supposed to bend, and hearing the crack of the bones. His grip on her throat loosened, and she let out a choked cough, keeling over on her side. Daryl kneeled down to her, panic rising in his brain.

"Hey, hey!" He grabbed onto her, grabbing her face to look her in the eye. "Are you alright?"

"Fine..." She choked out, watching the man with the broken arm fall to the ground. She looked up at Rick, and Daryl followed her eye line, to see Rick's face and beard covered in blood. People were all staring at them, specifically Rick. Nathan was dead quicker than he had been alive, bleeding from his neck on the hay covered ground.

Rory took Daryl's hand, and he helped her up, trying not to look at the bruises already forming around her neck.

"NATHAN! You killed him!" The man cried, holding his arm.

"He tried to kill Gregory, then me."

The woman tried to attack Rick, but Michonne very swiftly threw her down. Daryl and Rory barely moved an inch. One of the guards was making their way quickly down the front entrance, holding his spear up. 

"Drop it now!"

"I don't think I will." Rick scoffed, holding up his gun. 

"Everyone!" Jesus called, jumping in between them. "This is over. It's over. Nathan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this and these people stopped him."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "What can I do?"

"Put the gun away. You've done enough. You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."

Rory broke Daryl out of his trance of watching the scene unfold with a strained cough, her shaking hands reaching her neck. Jesus approached the two of them, putting a hand on her shoulder. It bothered Daryl, and this time he showed it, putting his hand around Rory's arm.

"You should see Harlan."

"I'm fine."

"Rory-"

Daryl put his arm around Rory and glared at Jesus. "We have a doc at home that'll check her out, thanks. You should," He gestured to Gregory. "Get him to that doctor." 

Jesus sighed with a nod and walked back to Gregory, who was still on the ground and helped lift him up with Maggie. Daryl walked Rory back to the house, staying behind the group. 

"You... broke his arm for me." She looked up at him innocently. He met her eyes.

"You wanted to die?"

"No, just surprised how you did that. It was so fast."

To be honest, Daryl had been too. He had never broken a man's arm before, but when he had seen that man's hand around her neck, he lost his breath for a moment.

"Ain't that hard."

"You should teach me. We could practice at the spot." She smiled, referring to the sunflower field outside of Alexandria. 

"Yeah," He nodded, his mouth in a thin line. "Alright."

Once back at the house, they waited for Maggie and Jesus to get back in Gregory's office. Nobody spoke, as Michonne silently tried to get the blood out of Rick's beard with a dishtowel. When Jesus returned with Maggie, everyone's breath hitched.

"Dr. Carson was able to patch Gregory up. He's in pain, but he'll live."

Michonne tossed the dishtowel over a chair. "So what happens now?"

"Things like this don't usually happen here, but... it's settled."

"We heard the name Negan." Rick leaned against Gregory's desk. "A while back, Daryl, Rory, and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?"

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors. As soon as the walls were built the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss, they made a lot of demands, even more threats. Then they killed one of us."

Jesus looked down, taking a breath for a moment.

"He was sixteen-years-old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat. Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would have chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him."

"He made the deal?" Rory asked. "With Negan?"

Jesus nodded. "Half of everything, our supplies, our crops, our livestock. It goes to the Saviors."

Glenn scratched the back of his head. "What do you get in return?"

"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us."

Daryl paced the room, turning to look at Jesus. The solution seemed simple in his head. "Why not just kill them?"

"Most of the people here don't even know how to fight, even if we had ammo." Jesus scoffed.

"How many people does Negan have?"

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as twenty."

Daryl felt anger rising in his chest. They had blown up that motorcycle gang, with barely any casualties. In his head, Rory getting shot was an accident that was caused by her being stupid. 

"They show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything? These dicks just got a good story. The bogeyman, he ain't shit." Daryl hooked his fingers through his jean loops.

"How do you know?" 

"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles. Rory got shot, but-"

"It was _my own damn fault_ ," She mimicked Abraham's accent with a roll of her eyes. "I know."

This was their chance. Negan's men didn't seem like shit to Daryl. If they had the chance to bring them down, it could be the start of everything. It was the start of what Rory had hope for. 

"You know, we'll do it. If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up? We want food, medicine, and one of them cows." Daryl listed the demands on his fingers and turned to look at Rick to see what he thought. Rick was almost smiling.

"Confrontation's never been something we've had trouble with."

"I'll take it to Gregory." Jesus nodded. 

By the end of the day, the deal had been made between Maggie and Gregory. They would get their men back, in exchange for half of Hilltop's supplies. It was sundown when they were getting ready to go, even gaining the man that had tried to kill Rory, which Daryl wasn't too happy about, but he was the only one that knew about the Savior compound.

Daryl was working on loading some food into a compartment in the motorhome when Rory walked up to her, hands behind her back. 

"Hey," She said, knocking against him.

"How's your neck?" Daryl asked her.

"Fine. Throats a little sore." She smiled at the sentiment. "But I'm fine. Just comin' over to say... let's have each other's backs at this thing."

Daryl looked over at her, heart pounding in his chest already.

"You hate when I steal kills from you. Why the change of heart?"

Rory's mouth twisted into a lopsided grin, and she looked down at her boots. "'Cause I got somethin' to lose now." 

That told Daryl everything he needed to know.


	24. twenty-three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a VERY shitty filler chapter, I'm so sorry.

Killing.

It wasn't something Rory was used to, but it was something Rory had done. She had taken human lives before. Ten, to be exact, and she remembered each of their faces in her head. She had used to count them every night before bed, almost like she was unsure if there were really ten or not.

They had been people who wanted her dead. Scavengers stealing her food, sociopaths, even a cannibal.

Even so, she didn't want to kill again. 

Every time she witnessed someone take their last breath, she had become an emptier, shell of a person, until Daryl had come around and brought light back into her life. She didn't want to become a shell again.

But there was going to be a fight, and she wasn't going to miss it. 

It was why she was sat in a church, her shaking leg pressed against Daryl's. Her knee wouldn't stop bobbing up and down, no matter how much Daryl would touch it for a split second to tell her to stop. 

She didn't want to kill anymore.

Rory could barely hear Rick's speech. He explained their discovery of Hilltop, and Jesus, and the deal they had made with Gregory. He told the community how the Saviors had almost killed her and her friends, and that sooner or later, it would be all of them.

"This is the only way to be sure... as sure as we can get, that we win, and we have to win." Rick almost yelled, and finally, Rory heard him.

"We do this for Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

This was for Alexandria. She had to remember that. Her family, her friends, the people that had saved her. She was done being afraid of others. 

She wasn't expecting Morgan to stand against his old friend in the back of the church as Rick asked for objections. Everyone's heads turned towards him, and Rory could see the same fear in him that she held in herself.

"You sure we can do it? We can beat them?"

"What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become, all of us - yes I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell him that." Morgan explained. Rory fought the urge to ask him to elaborate.

"They don't compromise."

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give them. It's a way out for them and us."

Rick blinked slowly, and Rory turned back to face away from Morgan, scared that she was beginning to agree with him.

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety. No, we have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

"Where there's life, there's possibility."

_Where there's life, there's possibility. Where there's life, there's possibility. Where there's life, there's possibility._

"Of them hitting us!"

"We're not trapped in this! None of you are trapped in this."

"Morgan... they always come back."

"Come back when they're dead too."

"Yeah, we'll stop them. We have before."

Rory knew that wasn't what Morgan was referencing. The dead, present or not, were haunting him, just as they were her. These people had lives, they just wanted to survive.

"Morgan wants to talk to them first." Rick turned to the rest of the group, disregarding him. "I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?"

Rory wanted to say it, but she knew it wasn't right. The Saviors wouldn't reason.

"What happened here..." Aaron stood up. Rory was surprised. She didn't think she'd see Aaron ever vouching for some kind of violence. "We won't let that happen again. I won't."

Rick nodded. "Looks like it's settled. We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it, we live. We kill them all. We don't all have to kill, but if people are gonna stay here... they do have to accept it."

Rick walked down the aisle, glaring at Morgan before walking out of the church, concluding the meeting. Rory let out a breath that she hadn't even known she'd been holding, her knee finally ceasing its bobbing as she stood up. She didn't even wait for Daryl, she just walked out of the church, trying not to let panic rise and bubble in her throat.

She went back to her house, locked the door behind her, and huddled on the floor of the kitchen, against the cabinets, and finally let the tears flow.

She didn't know if it was regret, or fear, or just having morals, but it was washing over her in waves. All the faces of the lives she took hovered over her, like ghosts. 

It was only a matter of time before she was hearing a knock on her door, and the jiggle of a doorknob. She didn't get up and open it, knowing it was Daryl, and instead buried her face in her knees. 

What she didn't expect was Daryl to move to the window in her living room, and come in that way. She almost laughed when she watched him trip into the room, wiping at her eyes. It was useless for her to tell him she was fine, it was clear she wasn't.

He slid down next to her, knocking his knees against hers a few times.

"Talk to me." He demanded, knocking his boots against hers. She buried her face back into her knees, taking a deep breath in. 

"The first person I killed tried to stab me in the head for less than half a can of beans." She said into her legs. "He was just trying to survive, and I threw him off of me and shot him in the chest." 

"He was trying to kill me."

"Are the Saviors trying to kill us?" She asked him, throwing her head up. "Not yet. Maybe Morgan is right. We could _threaten_ them...why do we have to kill them?"

"They killed a kid, R. I don't think they're looking to negotiate.

"I know." She groaned, knocking her head against the back of the counter. "I know that we have to do this, I just wish we didn't."

"There'll be a day when we don't got to. Just..." He leaned against her shoulder. "Think about the sunflowers." 

The sunflower field outside of Alexandria filled her head, and her dreams of kids running around, and families being built. She smiled, turning to look at him. 

His eyes were hazy and tired from their trip to Hilltop and back home, but nevertheless, he smiled back at her. Rory felt the warm feeling in her chest build at the way he looked at her, and she realized that if things went wrong at the Savior compound... she wouldn't see that face again. 

"Remember..." She whispered. "I have something to lose now." She blinked slowly, trying to not turn her gaze to his lips. 

Daryl was silent, his cheeks pink. He nodded.

"Yeah... me too." 

Her heart jumped. Daryl had reciprocated her secret confession. They both knew what it meant. It wasn't just caring about each other. It was seeing each other again after this was all over, and for years after. 

Though the two of them could have sat in each other's silence comfortably forever, Daryl decided to head back to his home after a while, leaving her with a hug and the reassurance that everything would be fine, though she didn't believe him.

He didn't return later that night to share her bed, and she understood why. He probably wouldn't be sleeping anyway, with something so important coming the next day. Rory found herself up at three in the morning herself, sitting up in her bed, sweat coating her back and forehead. The anxiety was almost unbearable when Daryl wasn't there, but she shook it off. She changed clothes, knowing sleep wouldn't be returning.

It was surprising how many people were also awake at three in the morning at Alexandria, but most people were sat on their porches, sulking in the heavyweight of the act they were going to be committing. 

Rory did a lap around the perimeter of the wall, eventually reaching the front gates. She looked up, seeing Rick at the watchtower. He looked down at her.

"Not sleepin'?"

"Couldn't." She crossed her arms, a gust of cool air brushing past her. Rick nodded for her to come up into the watchtower, and she obeyed, climbing up the wooden ladder, and grabbing his hand to pull her up. 

"Daryl..." Rick scratched the back of his neck and then ran his hand down his curly head of hair. "He might have ratted you out."

"About what?"

"You don't like killing."

Rory's eyes rolled. Of course, Daryl would tell Rick about that. He was worried she wouldn't go through with it. 

"I need to know," Rick leaned against the rail of the watchtower. "I need to know you have our backs. That you can overcome this fear... or whatever it is."

"Of course I can." Rory spat back. "But I can also have a human fucking emotion."

"Yeah," Rick nodded. "You can. I'm sorry. This is just... important, you know? It could change everything, you know that." 

Rory moved to stand next to him, positioning his arms like his. She grabbed his hand, like a friend, and squeezed it. 

"We can do this. I have your back." She looked down. "Just one thing..." 

"What's that?"

"If something happens to me, take care of Daryl." 


	25. twenty-four

Maps had been drawn, guns had been loaded, and knives had been sharpened. 

Daryl didn't see Rory much. She was loading a caravan with Jesus and making sure everyone who came with was fully equipped. Daryl watched her from afar. Her straight lipped smile, how she barely laughed when Jesus made a joke.

She was scared. He was scared for her, but the adrenaline to saving his family was stronger than the fear. 

Andy, Nathan's brother, had drawn up a map of the compound they would be raiding. He had interior and exterior maps and made sure Daryl knew that the main building had one entrance that was guarded by two men, though he wasn't sure how many would actually be at the compound.

Rick's plan was to walk straight through the front entrance. They would trick them by getting Andy to give the guard's Gregory's head, or at least a decoy. They would secure the armory if they had one. 

They left just after lunch, Andy leading them towards the compound. Rory had been anxiously playing a game of cards with Jesus as they rode in the caravan, two other cars of their team right behind them. They stopped a few miles away, and Rick called for them to split up into groups, and clear out walkers, find one for Gregory's head, and then meet back in a few hours. 

Daryl saw Rory going West with Jesus, so he followed, shotgun in his hands. 

"Ah," Jesus smiled when he caught eyes with Jesus. "The Three Musketeers." 

"You alright?" Daryl asked Rory, nudging her with his elbow.

"Just... don't wanna bury anyone today."

"We won't," Jesus reassured her. "We've got Andy and you've got me." He pushed some branches out of the way so they could get into the forest. 

Daryl could see that her knuckles were stark white wrapped around her knife. He grabbed her fist.

"Loosen up, sunshine." 

She uncurled her fingers, giving him half a smile. She stood up straighter, turning to look at Jesus.

"Remember the Prince of Motown?" 

"Marvin Gaye?" Jesus responded. Daryl had no clues who that was, but Rory nodded.

"Yeah. I read in a biography about him that he once said _'Negotiation means getting the best of your opponent.'_ "

"Not that again." Jesus sighed. Daryl could hear growls nearby, and he grabbed Rory's shoulder, pulling her back. 

Daryl pulled the knife from the sheath on his hip and made a hand for them to stay there. He walked forward into the brush, pushing trees out of the way, finding that there were able five walkers huddled around the carcass of a deer. 

Rory came up to his side.

"Thought I told you to stay back."

"Think you can take down five on your own?" Jesus remarked on his other side. He lifted a finger to one on the far left, with balding hair and a gash coming off of its cheek. "That one. Looks like Gregory." 

"I got him," Rory mumbled, striding towards the walkers with her knife ready. Daryl took the two to her right, and Jesus the two to her left. It was swift, and she cut off his head quickly, like it took nothing. 

It almost looked like she was practicing. Like she was pretending they were people so it would hurt less.

They returned with the head after scouting for a few hours, Rory holding it by the hair uncomfortably. She seemed so much unlike herself when she tossed the head to Rick and moved to sit on top of the car behind the caravan. Daryl just followed her, like a shadow, not even hiding the fact that he was worried about her. 

She grabbed his hand as Rick explained that they were going to take a look around, and if things looked good, they would fall out at midnight. They would come home if things didn't look good and think of a better plan. 

Rory kept her arm wrapped around his, completely silent, the entire time they waited for Rick and a few others to return from looking around. He would have offered to go, but Rick gave one look to how nervous Rory looked and told him to stay. 

Daryl was only soft like that with Rory. They all knew it. It made Jesus snicker as he leaned against the car, and Rory had enough audacity to raise her middle finger at him a couple of times.

If they made it through this, Daryl decided, he would kiss her. He would kiss her like they were meant to. Like they belonged to each other, because at this point they did. 

They did as Rick said by midnight, and drove to the compound in the caravan, parking far enough away so they wouldn't see them. Daryl gaped at the large satellite dishes poking out from the building as he got out of the car, and stalked in the dark. He could see Andy's car pulling up to the building, and red lights flashed on as he got out.

He couldn't hear, but he would know the signal. Andy would tap his fingers twice on his leg. 

Rory was on the other side of the building, with Rick and the others, and he could barely see her in the dark. 

Once he made it so he was aligned with the building, he ran to the side, pressing his back against the wall. He held his knife tightly. 

This would be the start of the future. 

He watched the guards examine the head Andy held, laughing, like a dead man was the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. One of the men came closer to look at it, cackling. Daryl just kept his eyes on Andy's fingers. 

The man tossed the head to the ground, and patted Andy's shoulder, and then went inside. The other guard whistled, and then, finally, Daryl saw the tap of Andy's fingers. He ran quickly to grab the man's shoulders and run his knife across his throat, shoving him down to the floor. He dug the knife into his temple, making sure he wouldn't come back from the dead later.

That's when Rory and Rick came, grabbing the dead body and lifting it into the bushes. He could see that she was trying not to look at it when she dropped it in, running back into the shadows towards Daryl. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the wall closest to him just to make sure, just when the guard returned with the man they needed.

Rick came out from the bushes and slit the guard's throat, and the entire group ran in.

"Let's go," Daryl told Rory, running towards the entrance and pulling the door open. They were the first ones in, walking through the halls that were dimly lit with yellow lights. They followed Rick, clearing out rooms quickly. 

Rory couldn't look as Rick killed their first people, cringing at the squelch of the knife going into their heads. 

Not after long, sirens in the building were going off. Rick looked over at them, sweat beading at his temples.

"We need someone to check on Carol and Maggie. They could be closing in on a perimeter." 

"I can go." Rosita volunteered, adjusting the strap on her gun.

"No," Daryl spoke up, looking at the pained expression on her face of all the dead that were surrounding them. She looked like she was close to vomiting. "Let Rory go." 

Rory scoffed. "I'm not just leaving you."

"You ain't leavin' me, but you can barely kill someone without getting nauseous." 

"Daryl-" 

There was no time to argue. Someone was shooting down the hallway. Daryl grabbed her, using his own body as her shield, pulling her towards the entrance. He grabbed her shoulders once they were covered by another set of walls. 

"Maggie is pregnant, we need someone to go."

"WHAT IF THIS-" Rory cleared her throat, realizing that she was yelling. Her eyes were filling with tears as she grabbed onto his arms. "What if this is the last time I see you?" 

Daryl realized it now. 

She was scared of killing human beings, she was scared of taking vulnerable lives, but what she _even more_ scared of was losing him. 

It's why she was so nervous, clinging to him on top of the car while Rick scoped out the compound. She was fearing death. 

"It isn't..." He promised, unsure if it was true. 

"Daryl..." 

She looked up at him, and very swiftly, she grabbed his face, pulling her lips to his. He barely had time to think or kiss back before she was running out of the front entrance, and Daryl was running back to the group, his mind in a haze. 

He had to do this for her. He had to defend everyone for her. 

It felt like the killing and the shooting would never end. There weren't very many of them that were fighting back, but they had a lot of ammo. As they moved deeper into the compound, Daryl felt his adrenaline turn into exhaustion. He was almost losing hope as she shot into another hallway, taking cover in a corridor to make sure no one else was shooting at him or Rick, or Michonne. His ears felt numb, but he never lost sight, meeting up with the rest of the group when the hallways met their ends.

Glenn and Heath had found the arsenal. The walls were coated in blood, there were bodies everywhere, but they found the arsenal. 

It was daylight by the time that they had gotten the caravan and cars loaded with all of the weapons, while Daryl stood watch, waiting for Carol, Maggie, and Rory to return. 

He couldn't stop pacing the yard of the compound, wondering where they were. She had kissed him. He had promised he would be okay. He was. Now, where was she? 

The caravan left with Tara and Heath for their two week supply run. Daryl barely had enough energy to say goodbye. 

His body almost surged with lightning at the sound of an engine in the compound. He scoffed, watching a man on a motorcycle try and take a last-minute escape out. Rosita quickly shot him down, and Daryl ran towards him, keeping him down on the ground and straddling him, knocking his fist against his face a couple of times, staining his face red. 

Rick came up, pointing his handgun at the man.

"Where'd you get the bike?" 

Daryl kept his hands on the man's shoulders, but he didn't try to fight back.

"JUST DO IT." He seethed, blood pooling in between his teeth. "Like you did everyone else!" 

_"Lower your gun prick."_

Rick's head turned, and Daryl followed it, seeing a walkie on the ground. 

_"You, with the Colt Python. All of you, lower your weapons right now."_

Daryl stood up, pulling his handgun swiftly to still have leverage on the man. Rick grabbed the walking.

"Come on out. Let's talk." 

_"We're not coming out, but we will talk. We've got a Carol, a Rory, and a Maggie."_

Daryl felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he lowered his gun. His entire face felt hot, his ears turning bright red. 

_"I'm thinking that's something you want to talk about."_


	26. twenty-five

**TRIGGER WARNING: MAJOR PHYSICAL ASSAULT IN THIS CHAPTER, SCARIFICATION, AND MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND GORE. WILL PUT ** ASTERISKS ** AT THE BEGINNING AND END OF MAJOR ATTACK SCENE.**

_“You take the bolt…”_

_Daryl took a crossbow bolt, and loaded it onto the crossbow, securing it down. “Put your hand here… and here.”_

_He swung his arms over Rory’s head, holding up the crossbow for her to hold up. She replaced his hands with hers, relishing in the warmth he had left from his skin. His right hand grabbed hers and placed it in the correct place._

_“Not there...here.” He corrected the way she held it, and she smiled, sticking her tongue in between her teeth. “Now look through the scope...good… Now point it at the target…”_

_Daryl’s hands pointed to the white circle he had drawn on the tree with chalk. Rory tried not to let the tickle of sunflowers around her legs distract her, or the hands that he had rested on her hips, his chin tucked in between her jaw and collarbone. She pulled the trigger, and the bolt flew into the tree, hitting right next to the bullseye, but not the center._

_That’s alright.” He squeezed her hip. “ ‘Nough practice for today,” He told her, taking the crossbow out of her hands and setting it on the ground. Rory kneeled into the ground and plucked a sunflower out of the dirt, breaking the stem to make it shorter. When her face came to be level with Daryl’s, she reached up, brushing the hair out of his face, and tucked the sunflower behind his ear._

_“Beautiful…” She whispered to him, her hand traveling from his ear to his cheek, running her thumb down his prominent collarbone. She leaned forward, stepping on the tips of her toes just a bit, to press a kiss right to the corner of his mouth._

_Daryl didn’t move his lips to hers, his arms falling slack to the side. She furrowed her eyebrows as she pulled away from him, her hands falling from his cheeks._

_“Daryl? Are you alright, love?”_

_Daryl opened his mouth to speak, and as he spoke, blood spilled from his mouth like a waterfall onto his chest and chin. He uttered something incomprehensible, and then he spoke it louder, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt._

_“I think she’s waking up. Good morning sunshine-”_

“-the earth says, hello!”

Rory felt a hand strike against her face, a sting spreading through her cheekbone to her jaw.

“Havin’ a nightmare?”

Rory didn’t answer. She didn’t recognize the voice, and soon, the face that she was looking at as her eyes fluttered open. A woman, with red hair, and a long, pointed up nose was grabbing her chin, smiling at her.

Rory could feel the stickiness of duct tape around her wrists and ankles. She didn’t remember what had happened. She just remembered running towards Carol and Maggie, taking out a walker that had been behind them, and then the feeling of something knocking against her head.

It had become daylight since then; she could see that through a tiny window at the top of a grimy, puke green, brick wall. It seemed, from the stains of congealed blood on the wall, and hooks hanging from the ceiling, she was in some sort of slaughterhouse for livestock.

She was in what seemed to have used to be a meat locker. She could tell by the smell.

“Answer my question, sweetheart. You were sayin’ someone’s name in your sleep…” She smiled, letting go of her chin and standing up. The blade of a knife was being held up towards her forehead.

  
Rory didn’t move; she didn’t answer. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

“You wanna know where your friends are,” The knife left the direction of her face. “Carol. Maggie… You’ll have to give me answers for that.”

Rory scoffed. The lack of weight from her weapons was evident on her lower half, and she raised her eyebrows at the redhead, finally speaking. Her voice didn’t sound like her own, raw and dry.

“I look like someone who could plot somethin’ against you?”

“You never know.” The woman pondered.

Rory felt herself feeling more shame than fear as she pressed her head against the wall, trying to avoid the growing concussion in her head. She never seemed to be able to protect herself or her friends when she needed to the most. She had perfect timing for every scenario.

The door to the meat locker opened, and an older woman came in, an injured man on her shoulder. She threw the man down against the wall next to the door, and then grabbed at her knees, trying to catch a breath that she didn’t have.

Rory kept her eyes on the man. He had a gunshot wound in his thigh. It was clear he was one of the Saviors. He had probably escaped her group’s attack by running out of the entrance while they were further in the building.

“This is the only other one we found.” The older woman choked out. “God, I need a cigarette.”

“Yeah, don’t do that. Little pregnant Polly will be on your ass.”

“Her name is Maggie.” Rory spat, bringing her knees to her chest. The redhead giggled, turning her head away from Rory in dismissal.

“I know what you’re thinking. “ _How in the hell am I getting my little ass out of this one?_ Here’s the answer. You’re not.”

Rory tried to sit up, wincing at the stabbing pain in her head. She looked up at the two of them. “What’s your name?”

The older woman laughed, letting out a choked cough afterward. “We are Negan.”

“Of course you are.” Rory pressed her back against the wall. “That’s what those motorcycle assholes said.”

“Oh,” She smiled. “You’re the one that took out T’s group. That was you? Really?”

Rory’s vision blurred as her head pulsed, and she closed her eyes, bringing her bound fingers up to rub at them. “I had some help. Got shot in the process. You assholes really don’t like to negotiate.”

“And you do?” The redhead asked.

“I would have liked to.” Rory spat back, her jaw clenching.

“Lemme guess.” She sighed. “You didn’t have a choice?”

Rory didn’t answer. Her eyes opened back up just so she could roll them, but they then fell on the injured man, who had let out a groan as he tried to press his hand to his thigh.

“Tear his sleeve off, wrap it around his leg. Unless you’re looking for him to bleed out.”

The redhead looked at her for a moment, perplexed at her aide, and then nodded, looking at the older woman.

“Molly, do it.”

“So, you’re not Negan,” Rory responded almost immediately. “You’ve got names.”

“Yeah, but we’re all Negan.” The redhead squatted down to look her in the eye and poked her chest. “I think that he’d like you,” She whispered. “The witty sarcasm, cute Lil’ button nose…”

“I don’t belong to any shithead with a name like _Negan_.”

That earned Rory another slap, on her unscathed cheek, so hard that she could feel it breaking the skin on her cheekbone. Rory threw her face into her shoulder, her sweaty hair falling into her face.

“Paula,” Molly said, giving the redhead a name. “We should check on the others. We’ll get Chelle to interrogate this one in a bit.”

Rory thought for a moment. She needed to think of something fast if she was going to try and plot an escape and get to Maggie and Carol.

God, Maggie, she was pregnant. She had to do something.

“Hey!” Rory called before Paula could walk out the door. “Paula!”

She hurried to her knees, nodding towards the injured man, who was trying to tighten the tourniquet on his leg, and letting out a groan of pain.

“You got a medkit? I can stitch that up before he bleeds out. You didn’t tie it right.”

“I do have a medkit, and you’re not getting it.” Paula turned.

“Wait!” Rory pleaded. “I was in medical school before this all happened.” She explained. “Can do transcutaneous sutures. If I don’t do it soon, he’s gonna be an amputee. All I need is a needle and thread, maybe some alcohol.”

Paula’s eyes narrowed.

“Why should we believe you?”

“Do you think some random dumb bitch would know what transcutaneous meant?” She blew her hair out of her face. Her eyes trailed to the knife on the guys’ hip, and she plotted out her plan, her chest beginning to hurt.

There was no time to feel regret. There was no time to be scared. This was life or death for more than one person, and she had to sacrifice the stupid fucking Savior.

Paula scoffed, rolling her eyes, but nodded. “I’ll be back in twenty. Will he make it in that time?”

“The tourniquet will tide him over.” Rory nodded. Paula left the room, and Rory waited until her footsteps were quiet and faded, all the way down a corridor. She could hear growling outside of the room. She tried not to let it worry her as she looked over at the man.

“Why the fuck are you staring?” He asked her, blowing out a pained breath.

“I may have lied about the tourniquet. It’s too loose, and it’s tied wrong.” She whispered.

“Why wouldn’t you have fucking told her that!”

“I wanted her to trust me so I could save your fucking life!” Rory spat back. “If you get over here,” She held up her taped hands. “Cut me free, and I can get a proper tourniquet on you. You’re bleeding too much. Your nerves will start to die, and you’ll lose your leg.”

The man was silent, gritting his teeth, and then he nodded, scooting towards her, pushing all of his weight on his arms. He dragged himself over to her, bringing his leg to be parallel with hers. He pulled his knife out of the sheath of his hip, and sliced the duct tape off of her wrists like butter, ripping them off, tearing the skin.

Rory held up a piece of fabric from her shirt, measuring out a length.

“Do you mind?”

The man scoffed, running the blade against the fabric of her shirt to make a new tourniquet.

As she pretended to straighten it out and measure it around his thigh, she muttered something, so he could barely hear her. She could feel her eyes filling with tears, her hands shaking at the thought of what she was about to do.

“What’d you say?”

“I said…” She dropped her tourniquet and dug her fingers into his bullet wound, as deep as she could, feeling the bone. He let out a scream, dropping his knife, and Rory straddled him as best as she could with her restrained ankles, grabbing the blade and bringing into his face.

She stabbed until there was nothing to stab anymore, just mushed up flesh and bone. The blood had sprayed into her face, and she let out a scream, falling off of him onto her back. She lifted her legs, slicing the duct tape off of her feet, and stood up, wobbly on her feet.

“I’m sorry.” She told the corpse on the floor. She spat out blood that had spattered into her mouth. “I wish things could have been different.

Before she left, she searched through the man’s pockets. He didn’t have a gun, but he did have car keys, which she pocketed for later in case she would need them, and in case they wouldn’t find the group. Then she stumbled to the door, peering out of the grimy window. It was clear of walkers, all of them dead on the floor, from Paula and Molly leaving. She pushed the door open slowly, and walked out, keeping the knife pointed outward.

** *************************************************************************************** **

Rory made it down one hallway before she was being smashed against the brick by strong arms from around a corner as she searched for Carol and Maggie. A younger woman with dark hair and a twisted, evil face knocked the knife out of Rory’s hands, but Rory wasn’t done fighting back, despite her hazy vision from her concussion.

She brought her knee into the woman’s hard abdomen, knocking her against the other side of the corridor. She pushed her hands onto her shoulder, but the woman reciprocated with a hard jab of her forehead into Rory’s nose. She felt it pour with blood from her nostrils, and she cursed, bringing her fist into the woman’s face multiple times before the woman gained the upper hand again, sweeping her ankles and knocking her to the ground.

“C’mon,” The woman said in a deep voice, dragging her by the ankle towards another room. She heard a door open, and her leg was dropped. When Rory’s vision focused, she could see Maggie was sat in a chair, heaving at the sight of Rory’s bleeding face.

“What’s going on?” Paula asked. “Chelle?”

The younger woman, Chelle, straddled Rory’s waist, pulling out a knife from her sheathe. Rory recognized it as her own knife that she had been plunging into the head of a walker when she had been knocked out.

“Hold her arm down, Paula.”

  
“Chelle,”  
  


“No, I think she wants to play a game of Hangman, so let’s play!”

Rory felt her wrist being held down into a concrete floor as Maggie pleaded for them not to do whatever they were going to do. She writhed on the ground, helpless, unable to break free.

“Alright, Rory, it’s five letters, can you guess the first one?” Chelle asked, pressing the blade against her skin.

“Fuck you!” Rory spat, leaning her head up to spit in Chelle’s face. She felt someone grabbing at her ankles, stopping her from kicking.

“Close! I think I’ll give you the points anyway!”

The tip of the blade pressed into Rory’s arm, and she stopped flailing, letting out a whimper of pain. Her eyes found Maggie, who was sobbing, bound in the chair with a gag around her mouth. 

“N,”

She was a coward. She couldn’t save anyone.

E,”

Daryl would be ashamed of her.

“G,”

He would never want to look at her again after this. To kiss her.

“A,”

She felt her will of life wash away, the pain becoming numb. She was running out of tears.

“N.” Chelle pulled the knife away from her arm, now being close to her wrist. “Wanna see your new tattoo?” She held her arm up to Rory’s eye line, and Rory just squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head and lifting her jaw.

Paula got Rory’s almost limp body up to another chair, binding her with more duct tape. Rory stared at the ground, her mouth agape.

“Chelle, outside with me,” Paula called, and the door slammed shut. Maggie said something to Rory, muffled through the gag, but she ignored it. She was a fucking pussy. All she was good for was baiting, but she was glad it had been her and not Maggie or Carol. She was the one who deserved it the most. She was useless; she didn’t deserve to live.

Maggie, from her chair, had been trying to get her hands unbound on the edge of her chair when the door opened again. Rory was sure they were going to be facing their deaths. However, when she looked up, it was Carol. She cut Maggie free first, and then Rory.

Once she was free, she looked at the name carved into her arm. Carol grabbed Rory’s chin, making her look at her eyes.

Carol’s lip quivered at the lifelessness in them, the blood pouring from her nose and over her chin, and she quickly hugged her, standing her up. “I need you to fight, if not for you, then for us,” Carol told her. “Can you do that?”

Rory nodded slowly, blinking her tears away. Carol pulled off her coat, sliding it onto Rory’s arms to cover the injury as best as they could.

** *************************************************************************************** **

“Listen, they’ve spread out, but I think we can make it past them.”

“We have to try.” Maggie nodded. “We can’t leave them alive.”

“No, Carol shook her head. “We should just go.”

“Maggie’s right,” Rory remarked, looking at her feet. “We have to.”

They walked out of the doors, and Rory followed them into the room where they had seemingly been bound initially. There was a man lying dead there, just like the one she had killed. He had a gunshot wound in his arm, but it was clear he had already bled out, though breath still fell from his lips.

“He was already dead,” Maggie whispered. “He’s turning.”

“We should go,” Carol said.

  
“We need a gun,” Maggie said. “Give me that,” She held out her arm, and Carol handed her some rope. Maggie worked on tying the rope around the torso of the man, and then tied the end of the rope to a pipe.

“When they come to check on us, he’ll have turned. Come on.” She led them out of the room and down a corridor. Molly was the one to come check on the room, and Maggie snuck up on her, knocking her out with a lead pipe she had found on the ground.

She bashed in Molly’s head until there was nothing left, just like Rory had, but the difference was that Maggie had no remorse. She screamed as she did it, like she was screaming a battle cry, throwing the pipe to the side when it was done. She pulled the gun off of the corpse’s hip, and Rory turned away down the hall, unable to look at the bashed in brains any longer.

Reaching the main hall was easy, but getting through wouldn’t be. There were about fifteen walkers, all somehow stuck in their place in the hall, whether they had no legs, or were impaled on a sharpened PVC. Carol cursed, rubbing at her sweating forehead.

“They’re using them to keep us in, keep the others out.”

“We have to find them,” Maggie said, driving her knife into one of the heads of the walkers. Rory looked up, trying to think of a plan, and met eyes with Paula down the hall, her gun raised. She grabbed Maggie’s shoulders, pulling her down, using the walkers in front of them as a shield.

Paula shot off until she was out of bullets, and that is when Carol stood from her ducking position, holding the handgun up, aiming directly for her head.

“Just run.” Carol told Paula.”

“Shoot her.” Maggie scoffed. Rory’s arms were still on her shoulders. She wasn’t letting a pregnant woman try and fight off a woman in the midst of fifteen walkers.

“Go on,” Paula smiled. “Do it. You’ve killed Donnie, Mark, Molly. Your people destroyed my home.”

“Get outta here.” Carol pleaded.

“You have no idea… the things I’ve done, what I’ve given up, what I had to do.”

“JUST RUN!”

“Carol, shoot her.”

“Go ahead, I’ve already lost everything.”

Carol was frozen for a split second and then pulled the trigger, moving the aim into Paula’s shoulder. Maggie stood up, taking out a walker beside them. They fell silent at the sound of a door opening from a nearby corridor, and Rory held her hand up, slowly making her way to hide behind the wall.

It was Chelle. The motherfucker that carved Negan’s name into her arm, calling for Paula and Molly. Rory’s remorse fell off of her shoulders for a split second, being replaced with complicated feelings of anger, and she turned the corner, driving Carol’s knife into Chelle’s abdomen. She did it repeatedly, over and over, watching blood spill from her mouth, listening to the squelch of metal on flesh.

“I don’t belong to anyone.” She whispered as she pulled the knife out, throwing Chelle to the ground. She looked at Carol and pointed.

“Finish it.”

Carol nodded, firing a single round into Chelle’s head, stopping her from turning.

“Carol,” Maggie pointed to Paula, who was still bleeding on the ground, trying to stand up. She was laughing, deep in her throat, eyes darting between Carol and Rory.

“You two… you’re good. The nervous little bird, and the dainty, lying nurse. But not now, right? Me too.”

“I told you to run,” Carol said.

“If you could do all this, what were you so afraid of?”

Carol’s eyes fluttered with gleaming tears. “I was afraid of this.”

Paula laughed, grabbing Carol in her moment of weakness. Carol grabbed her by her shoulders, throwing her into one of the sharpened PVC pipes. A walker grabbed onto her, ripping the skin from cheeks with its yellowed teeth, and Rory shut her eyes at the screams, wishing she could gouge her eardrums out.

Paula’s walkie announced that her team was approaching, and where they should meet, and it was easy for Carol to imitate her voice to tell them to meet on the kill floor.

Carol had noticed gallons of gasoline in one of the rooms, and they went back to retrieve them. Together, they spilled all of the jugs onto the floor, and it mixed with the walker blood, making it seem like it was completely safe. Rory did it willingly, just wanting to do something meaningful, and get her friends out alive.

They waited outside of the kill floor, watching through a cracked door.

“I think I might have killed eighteen people. Twenty.” Carol whispered.

“I’m at thirteen now…” Rory whispered. “I think.”

“I should’ve killed Donnie in the woods too. He was the one who knocked you out.” Carol told Rory. “I had a clear shot, I didn’t miss. None of this would’ve happened if I had just killed him.”

“Don’t think about it,” Maggie told the both of them.

“I can’t stop.” Carol whimpered. Rory tensed at the sound of the doors opening, and voices echoing through.

_“Careful, the floor’s slick.”_

_“You sure this is it?”_

_“She said kill floor.”_

“Carol,” Rory said, holding out her hand for the lighter and cigarette. “I’ll do it.”

She had to do it. She had to prove to herself that she could be someone that was there for her team. She couldn’t be useless.

  
Carol nodded, placing the items in her hand. Rory put the cigarette in between her lips and lit it, taking a long drag before opening the crack of the door and throwing the cigarette in with shaky hands. She slammed the door closed after that, listening to the Savior’s bodies be licked with flames, their screams filling the entire building.

They walked away like nothing had happened, the glow of the fire on their backs. Rory tried not to cry, she tried not to apologize, barely feeling the hand on her back, or the blood dripping from her sleeve. They ran all the way to the entrance of the slaughterhouse, the doors opening before they could get to them.

Rory was ready to fight her way out for Carol and Maggie, her knuckles white as she gripped Carol’s knife, but she completely broke down when she met Daryl’s eyes. His gun was raised, but when he saw her, it immediately fell from his grip onto the floor, and he ran to her, wrapping his arms around her like he hadn’t seen her in years, lifting her off the ground.

Tears sprang from her eyes as she held him back, threading her fingers through his hair. When he pulled away, he examined her face.

“What happened, is that your blood?”

“Some is mine,” She whispered, hating how her voice sounded like a child’s, full of fear. “Some isn’t.”

“Hey,” Daryl told her, cradling her face with his hands. “I’ve got you now.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as he pulled her towards the exit of the building.

“For what?”

“I-I don’t know.”

She looked up. Rick had someone by the arm looking through the doorway.

“That guy,” Daryl explained to Carol and Rory at the same time. “Had my bike.”

Rory’s eyes furrowed. That bike had been stolen by Dwight. Maybe those were the guys that Dwight and Sherry had been running from, and they had been caught again.

“No one’s comin’ for ‘ya,” Rick told the man, Primo. “So you might as well talk.”

“Let him burn,” Daryl said.

“We found it.”

“Like hell you did.”

“We found it!” Primo repeated. Rory pulled off Carol’s coat, revealing the capital letters that had been put on her body forever. She wiggled out of Daryl’s grasp and approached Primo, grabbing his shoulder and pressing him against the wall. She held her arm up to his vision.

“Who is this? Was he at the compound last night? Was he here? Who the fuck is he?”

Primo laughed. “Both. I’m Negan, shithead.”

Rory felt someone’s hand grab at her shoulder, and she watched Rick pull her behind him.

“There’s a whole world of fun that we can talk about,” Primo explained. “So let’s have a chat-”

Rick shook his head, holding his gun up to Primo’s head and apologizing quickly before pulling the trigger. Rory barely flinched, watching the man’s body slide down onto the ground.

In fact, Rory barely felt anything as Glenn used a medkit to patch her arm up at one of the cars before they could head back home. She didn’t feel the wind whiz past her face as she rode behind Daryl on his newly retrieved bike.

She didn’t feel anything until she returned back home to Alexandria and looked at herself in the mirror, seeing dried blood streak across her face and body.

She once again felt remorse.


	27. twenty-six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but this is the end of the first part of the story!

_"You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell; what I mean is, that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me."_

Daryl felt Rory turn away from the book, looking at his closed eyes as they sat on the porch of her house.

"Want me to stop?"

"No..." He leaned against her, shaking his head. "Keep going. Just to the end of this part." 

Rory cleared her throat and turned the page of _Our Mutual Friend_ by Charles Dickens, a random book that she had found at Deanna's former home, and Spencer had let her borrow.

_"You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me."_

She sniffed, clearing her throat. 

_"But if you would return a favorable answer to my offer of myself in marringe, you could draw me to any good - every good - with equal force."_

She finished the passage in quiet mumbles as Daryl drank her voice in, eventually not even comprehending the meaning of the words. It had been the first time in weeks that Rory had spoken around him, and though it wasn't to him, the pain had she been hiding from him radiated from her body and waves. He absorbed it, hoping that being there next to her would help.

His eyes opened as she closed the red, leather-bound book. She ran her fingers over the gold-pressed letters at the front of the book, but his eyes were focused on the recently changed bandage around her arm. 

The word Negan swam around his brain. The _name_ Negan, and whoever that person was. Whatever they wanted to do, what they had done. It never left his head. 

"I'm gonna go to bed," Rory told him, standing up. She tucked the book under her arm, and smiled at him, bringing her hand down to his shoulder and squeezing. He lifted his hand for a moment to rest on top of hers and squeezed, and then she was gone.

She locked the door behind her. 

They hadn't shared a bed together, not since before they had left the slaughterhouse. For a long time, Rory hadn't actually let him talk to her. She spent her time with Tara, Denise, and Maggie, and took long shifts at the watchtower with Sasha. She had hardly eaten or slept, from what he gathered, but every time he tried to speak with her, she wouldn't give in.

That was until she left without telling anyone in the middle of the night, and Carol had told him that she had seen her climbing over the wall without any weapons. The sunflower field looked like dead weeds in the moonlight, as he watched her try and fight off a group of five walkers with her fists.

He had come to her rescue, and she had socked him in the face. 

Rory told him that she had wanted to go with no tears in her eyes. She said she didn't have room for tears anymore, and that there wasn't room for her in the group. That she was weak. 

After that incident, Daryl checked on her every night, sharing a cigarette with her, and eventually, she started to bring out books to read as she would sit with him until she would get tired, or cold, and go inside.

She hardly touched him, and she didn't kiss him or hold him. He was fine with it, but he would have been lying to himself if he said he didn't long for her fingertips through his hair again or her grip on the fabric of his jacket. He didn't feel like himself without it anymore.

Daryl had never really mapped out his feelings with Rory. When they started, they had just felt so natural, and she had always reciprocated them in some way. 

As he sat on Rory's porch, the sound of the lock clicking on her door still lingering, he thought about it. He thought about what he would do to protect her, to keep her safe. 

Daryl would do anything for any of his family, the group that he had come to Alexandria with, without question. But Rory, there were things that Daryl would do for Rory that crossed human possibilities. He would fly to the moon and bring it back with him for her if he could... if she asked for it. 

He was willing to give up his life for hers. He set that straight in his head before stepping off of her porch.

Boy, was Daryl Dixon about to eat his words.


	28. twenty-seven

_There were five walkers around them, lying dead amongst the sunflowers, all from wounds to the head. Daryl Dixon had killed them all, while Rory Campbell had just stood there, hoping that one of them would take a bite out of her._

_He had thrown down his knives into the ground after they were all dead, and grabbed onto her shoulders, shaking her, but she was completely numb, completely silent._

_"Why didn't you bring any weapons with you?"_

_Rory didn't answer, and he shook her again, his voice cracking._

_"Rory, WHY?"_

_She looked up at him, eyes completely dry and void of any feeling. "I wanted to go. I'm weak..."_

_"I'm tired of hearing that from you. I've told you a million times that-"_

_"There's no room for me. It'd be fine if I just went away."_

_Daryl had scoffed at her remark, throwing himself down onto the ground, and pulling his knees to his chest. Rory sat down next to him, her body completely rigid._

_"You think I'd be fine if you went away?" Daryl asked her. She shrugged, picking at the grass beside her._

_"You'd be better off."_

_"No," He shook his head. "I can't lose anyone else. Not you."_

_She was silent, though her heart still skipped a small beat beneath all of the numbness she could feel inside of her. Rory went to pick at another piece of grass, and Daryl grabbed her wrist, gently, as it was the bandaged one._

_"Tell me I won't, R."_

_"Won't what?"_

_"Lose you."_

..........................

"Acetaminophen, Naproxen, pseudoephedrine, meclizine, Hydrocortisone cream, cephalexin, metronidazole, and Oseltamivir. Not to mention prenatal vitamins for Maggie, gauze, rubbing alcohol, and diaper rash cream for Judith."

Rory felt her heart drop as she rummaged through drawers for any extra medication that had been stocked into the infirmary. She cursed as she came up with a single bottle of Ibuprofen, and nothing else.

"We're seriously out of all of those?"

"Yeah, that ambush at the satellite seriously broke down our stash." Denise pushed her glass up as she measured out one of the last bottles of pain meds they had for a patient that had just gotten back from a run, and caught an infection in his leg from a cut. They had just managed to save it but had barely had enough gauze to cover the entire wound.

Denise gave the patient his medication while Rory made out a list of meds they needed. She wrote swiftly, her hands shaking and her eyebrows knitted together. 

Hey," Denise said after the patient had left, leaning against the counter Rory was writing on. "Do you think we could go on a run for these? I know a place that we can go to. It's an apothecary."

Rory's ears twitched at the mention of a place that would most likely have everything they needed. She nodded, tucking the list into her jeans pocket.

"Daryl and Rosita are going on a run today. I'll hand it off to them if you can get me a map." 

"No!" Denise straightened up, tightening her ponytail. "I mean yes... but I wanna come." 

"Denise,"

"I know Daryl won't let me go, and Rosita won't like it. I don't know how to fight, I rarely spend time out there, but..." She shrugged, scratching at her arm. "I want to. I want you to be there too, and Daryl and Rosita. You guys can teach me. Daryl will listen if you ask him."

Denise pulled on her sleeves.

"It's also my birthday in a few days so... it could be my gift if you really think about it." She teased, and Rory managed to get her lips to curve for just a moment, though once Denise began to work again, her face twisted up. She hadn't spoken to Daryl seriously for a few weeks, except for those shared moments of reading on the porch, and she was sure he wouldn't want her going on a run after he had caught her trying to get eaten alive in the sunflower field.

She wasn't sure if she was still that numb. There had been good days since then, but the nights were the worst, and where her intrusive thoughts lingered. She had a constant headache from all of the stress in her own head, but maybe, if she went out there and did something for the town, it would help her. 

She just had to get through twenty-four hours, every day. If not for herself, then for Alexandria and for Daryl.

Rory agreed to talk to Daryl after her shift, which had ended two hours later. Walking out of the infirmary, she found him on the other side of their little town, next to the porch of his house, using the red bandana that usually hung from his back pocket to polish the shiny parts of his bike. She fiddled with her thumbs, contemplating not bothering him while he worked.

Before she could back out, his eyes flickered upward, and he smiled at her, standing up from his bike. She slowly walked toward him, trying to smile but finding it awkward to use those muscles in her face. It felt like she hadn't smiled in months.

"Sorry to bother you..."

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry about. You're you. You don't bother me." He moved back to sit on the steps of his porch, and she reluctantly took the spot next to him, fighting the urge to embrace the warmth radiating off of his body.

"What's up, sunshine?" 

Rory sighed, pulling her list out of her back pocket and handing it to him. He looked at her as she handed it to him, and then read the list.

"What language is this written in?" 

Rory rolled her eyes. "It's a list of medications that we're either out of or almost out of." 

"How important are these meds?"

"Unfortunately, these are all of the vital ones. Most of them are to treat infection, influenza, and pain." She reached over his arm, pointing at specific names. "Those ones down there are for Judith, and those are prenatal vitamins for Maggie's pregnancy." 

Daryl folded the list up, and she pulled her arm away from him. She clasped her hands together in her lap, her knee shaking.

"Denise knows a place not far from here. Maybe ten miles or so, a little bit farther away than the sorghum barn. It's an apothecary, it'll most likely have what we need."

"Great," Daryl nodded, standing up. "Tell her to draw it up on a map and Rosita and I will go." 

"She wants her and me to go." 

"Alone?" Daryl questioned, and then shook his head. "No, not after-"

"Yeah," She rolled her eyes and stood up to face him. "I know. And she wants you guys to come too... said it's her birthday in a few days so we're obliged to bring her."

Daryl was silent for a moment and then sniffed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and used one hand to flick the lighter open and light it against his jeans, lighting it swiftly. He jerked his hand to close the zippo and shoved it back in his pocket, inhaling.

He blew the smoke out like it was an art, and it surrounded his face. Rory chewed on her lip as she waited for his response.

"Meet us right here in an hour." Rory nodded, turning to leave, but he stepped forward, grabbing her arm. "Hey, for her birthday... you should make that apple pie."

"For you or for her?" Rory teased as he let go of her arm.

"Maybe a little bit of both," Daryl remarked, and Rory felt the muscles in her face loosen, and she genuinely grinned, sending him a wink as she walked away. Her body shivered with delight at the feeling serotonin running through her brain for once. Something about him did that.

Rory returned with Denise exactly an hour later, meeting Daryl and Rosita there.

Denise showed Daryl, on a map, that the apothecary was a part of a strip mall, and had technically been a gift shop, but there was a good chance it had drugs. Daryl and Rosita had immediately rejected her plea as she described that she had barely been in the outside world, but after some convincing from Rory, (or maybe just a single look at Daryl), they reluctantly agreed.

Spencer offered up his truck to take to the apothecary to make sure they had enough room for everything, though there was barely enough room for three people, let alone four. 

However, before they took off, everyone in the truck but Rory, she felt a hand grabbed hers. She turned, to see that she was face to face with Spencer. He smiled at her, eyes traveling over her face.

"Um-"

"Be careful out there, yeah?" 

Rory didn't mean to, but she let out somewhat of an exasperated laugh. Spencer had rarely ever spoken to him, except for a few runs they had been on together with his younger brother, but they hadn't been close. 

"Uh... okay, Spencer."

"I hope to maybe... hang out after you get back?"

"Um... yeah." She nodded, feeling uncomfortable and pulling her hand away from him. She pulled open the door and climbed in next to Rosita, giving Spencer a friendly, faux smile. 

"Please start driving," Rory said to Daryl, turning her head towards the gates. Rosita put her hand on Rory's, seeing that she was uncomfortable.

"Did he say something to you?"

"No... nothing bad, just flirting." She shook her head. "Just haven't been talked to like that since I was a bartender." She smiled, patting Rosita's hand with her other.

Daryl grunted, struggling with the shifts of the truck as he drove them onto the highway. Rory looked over at him, and his eyes flicked over to look at her for a mere second. 

Denise tried to assist as he struggled with the shifts, and though stubborn, Daryl eventually took her advice, but it didn't last long. Eventually, due to a large branch from a nearby tree blocking the road, they had to stop. 

"Daryl," Rosita started.

"Yep." He sighed, turning to Denise. "Stay here." 

Rosita, Daryl, and Rory, all got out, Rory's grip on the hilt of her knife, though she hadn't yet pulled it out. Rosita took care of a walker stuck under the branch.

"This happened fast. Tree rotted out. It wasn't people." She remarked as she drove the knife into its head. "Found a bag."

"What's in it?"

"Hm... whiskey." Rosita sighed, crossing her way back to the truck, and opening the door for Denise, announcing that it was clear for her to come out. Daryl grabbed a large orange bag from the back of the truck and swung it across his back, and then handed a smaller black backpack to Rory, that she adjusted on her shoulders.

"What'd you find?"

"Booze," Rory responded.

"Any takers?" Rosita joked, holding the bag up. "For later. I'm not bringing these to the pantry."

"I'm good. They were kind of my parent's thing." Denise smiled half-heartedly. "Which is why they aren't mine."

Daryl was already walking to climb over the branch. "That truck ain't gonna make it past this tree. Come on, let's walk."

"Hold up," Denise protested, pointing at the map. "Looks like a straight shot if we follow the tracks."

"No, no tracks. We'll take the road." 

"That's twice as far," Rosita complained.

"Go whichever way you like!" Daryl scoffed, turning for a moment just to throw his hands up in the air. "I ain't takin' no tracks!" 

Rory frowned, turning apologetically to the two women before following after Daryl. It was clear he was upset about something, but she wasn't sure what. She wasn't sure if she even had the brainpower to figure out what was bothering him anymore, though she knew she would always try.

Before she could call out to Daryl, Denise was catching up to them, coming to her side.

"Rosita is taking the other way." She announced, and Daryl nodded.

"Sounds like her."

Rory breathed in the autumn air as they walked down the road. There were old barns, and a few broken-down houses lining the road, but what Rory was really focused on was the trees whose leaves had turned to oranges, reds, and yellows, occasionally falling over their heads. Rory bent over and picked up a dark red leaf, running her fingers over the unique vein-like design. 

She turned her head to look at Daryl who was at her side, clenching his jaw. 

"You scowl like that and your face will stay like that forever, Dixon." She managed to say, grabbing the leaf and pressing it into this palm. He smiled, examining it and tucking it into the inside of his jacket.

"So you're talking again?"

"If you're not a dick, yeah...maybe." 

"Is he capable of that?" Denise asked with a laugh, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Hey," He scoffed, nudging Rory. "You tellin' everyone about me?" 

Rory hummed. "Only good things." 

"Hey," Daryl knocked his hand into her shoulder. "What'd you think about makin' that apple pie?"

"Apple pie?" Denise questioned. "For who?"

"For you." Rory smiled at her. "For your birthday." 

Denise's cheeks flushed and she looked down. "No one's done that for me before." 

"Well, it won't just be me. I'll teach Daryl, get his lazy ass to do something."

The comfortable conversation ended once they reached Rosita, who was sat on the ground messing with a rock when they showed up. She stood up, tossing the rock to Rory. 

"About time."

"Daryl scoffed, continuing to walk towards the apothecary. Rory dropped the rock to the ground while Denise reassured Rosita that she wasn't trying to choose Daryl over anyone. Rory tried to tell herself that too, though it seemed she was back to where she started before the satellite, following Daryl around like a sick puppy. 

The sun had been burning right into Rory's face as they made it to the apothecary, and she squinted up at the sign; Edison's Apothecary and Boutique. She tried not to get her hopes up, knowing it could very well be just a gift shop. Her eyes scanned across the muddy handprints scattered across the doors and windows.

Daryl used the butt of his gun to knock against the door, but Rory was too far to hear the snarls. He pointed to Denise. "Stay behind us, got it?"

Denise nodded, and Daryl pulled a crowbar out of the orange bag, using it to pry open the door. The moment it was open and they walked in, Denise gagged, the smell that the rest of them had become accustomed to getting to her. Rory put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"We gonna find out what you had for breakfast?"

"Oatmeal." Denise groaned. "Just so you know." 

Rory's hand slid off her shoulder and she moved farther into the store, catching a flashlight Daryl had tossed to her. She was examining a rack of sunglasses when Rosita turned towards her.

"Hey,"

The group moved to where she stood, and she moved her light above a window locked with metal shutters. It was labeled 'pharmacy'. Rory grinned, holding her flashlight in between her teeth and taking Daryl's crowbar, prying it open after a few jiggles. Daryl helped her pull the shudders up, revealing racks upon racks of pills.

"If you set them on the counter, Rory and I can identify-"

Rory was already grabbing her bag and shoving bottles in. "We'll take the whole thing." 

"Are you sure, because-"

"No, it's fine," Rosita reassured her, climbing over the window to get in after Daryl. They stopped after a moment of packing, hearing a thud behind a wall. Rosita shrugged.

"It's just one."

"Sounds like it's stuck," Daryl said, turning back to a shelf. Rory piled bottles of pills into her bag, barely even reading the labels. There were syringes too, and bottles of different injections, and she was sure she would have to leave those for Denise to learn about. 

Rory jumped at the sound of glass breaking outside of the pharmacy, and she stuck her head through the window, seeing Denise knocking into a shelf of glass bowls.

"You alright?"

"I..." She shrugged. "I'm fine." She rushed towards the doors, walking out. Rory turned to Daryl, handing him her bag. She didn't have to say anything for him to give her a nod of understanding, and she hoisted herself out of the pharmacy and walked out of the store. She found Denise sitting against the building wall, her machete in between her legs, weeping. Rory gestured for her to scoot over, and she did, letting her sit down beside Denise.

"What happened in there?" 

Denise looked at her, her nose red from rubbing tears from it. She pushed her glasses up and swallowed, letting out a long sigh.

"I went towards the thumping."

"Denise-"

"I'm fine. It was barely alive. It was just..." She whined slightly, and Rory noticed a keychain she was fumbling within her hands, labeled "Dennis". Dennis and Denise. They must have been siblings.

"But... there was a sink, and it was just covered in blood... and there was a shoe. It was a baby shoe...I couldn't help but wonder what happened."

Rory shook her head. "You can't do that to yourself. Don't think about what happened. Think about what's going to happen." She leaned against Denise. "You're going to go home, we're gonna celebrate your birthday,"

Denise giggled, wiping at her eyes.

"And soon, you'll see Tara. I know they're a few weeks overdue from coming back... but she's out there, and she'll be back. I guarantee it." 

Denise's smile grew, and she nodded. "Thank you... that actually means a lot."

Rory was giving her a hug from the side as the doors to the apothecary swung open, and Daryl and Rosita revealed themselves with full bags on their backs. He handed Rory's back down to her.

"You did good finding this place," Daryl told her. Denise nodded thanks, standing up with her machete.

Rosita chewed on her lip, unable to help it. "We tried to tell you, you weren't ready. We both did."

"I know."

The sun was slowly starting to set as they made their way back home, and Denise had been describing her experience with her twin brother to Daryl. He had decided to take the tracks, and Rory, in an exponentially better mood, balanced on the rails as she walked, even finding the will to hum. 

She hadn't even noticed that Denise wasn't behind them anymore until she was yelling out to them. Her eyes traveled to find Denise off of the tracks and to the side, standing next to a car. There was a growling, hungry walker inside it, and Rory's anxiety rose at how close Denise seemed to be standing to it.

"There's a cooler in there! Might be something we can use inside."

"We got what we came for." Rosita shook her head, and Daryl nodded in agreement.

"Nah, ain't worth the trouble, come on."

"Denise-" She started, but it was too late, and she was crossing over to the other side of the car and pulling the door open. The walker fell on top of her, and Rory sprinted over, but Denise held her hand out, killing the walker herself with the machete. Rory let out a pant.

"You're kidding, right?"

Denise almost had a smile on her face, and then she was keeling over and vomiting. She took a moment, leaning over her knees and sighing.

"I vomited on my glasses."

She crossed over to the cooler she was so desperate to get, and pulled off the lid, revealing a six-pack of soda inside. "Hot damn."

"You could've died right there, you know that?" Daryl scoffed, pointing at the deceased walker.

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you hearing me?"

"Who gives a shit? You could have died killing those Saviors, all three of you, Rory especially, but you didn't. You wanna live, you take chances. That's how it works, and that's what I did!" 

"For a couple of damn sodas?"

"Nope," She grabbed the orange one, pulling it off of the plastic ring and holding it up as she walked past. "Just this one."

"Denise," Rory asked, climbing back up onto the tracks. "That was seriously idiotic. Tell me you're not that-"

"Are you that stupid? I mean it, are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me? See... I have training in this shit, I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and the surgery, and the..."

She scoffed, rubbing at her nose where her glasses usually were. She pointed to Daryl.

"I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe." She turned to Rosita. "And I wanted you here because you're alone, probably for the first time in your life."

She turned to Rory, her eyes softening. "And you... because you've been shutting Daryl out and I can see how much it's killing him inside... and most importantly because you feel like family to me now."

Rory felt ashamed in herself now as Denise opened herself up to them. 

"And you're stronger than you think you are, all of you, which gives me hope that maybe I can be too. I could've gone with Tara, I could have told her I loved her, but I didn't because I was afraid. That's what's stupid." She grinned. "Not coming out here, not facing my shit... and it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and you're smart and you're all really good people, and if you don't wake up and-"

Rory could barely comprehend what was happening as she watched a bolt fly into Denise's left eye, like it had appeared right out of thin air just for that moment. It seemed that Denise had barely noticed it, still trying to talk.

"w...wake up... and face your..." 

Rory fell to the ground with Denise, grabbing her head so it wouldn't fall harshly. She didn't pay attention to the fifteen, maybe twenty men that were coming out of the woods as she searched through her bag to try and save Denise, though she was already gone, blood trickling out of the hole in her eye. 

She felt ringing in her ears, and she looked up from her knees to see Daryl and Rosita dropping their guns. Her eyes were blurry as she watched Dwight coming out of the shadows, the man from the burned forest, Daryl's crossbow in his hands, and Eugene by his wrists. He pushed Eugene to his knees.

"Well hell, you got something to say to me? Are you gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse?" Dwight chuckled. "No. You don't talk much." His eyes flickered to Rory. "Neither of you did."

She barely felt herself being patted down, her weapons and bag being taken from her, even Denise's machete from her dead hands. She didn't have the energy to scream at them to get their hands off her.

Dwight held up the crossbow. "Still getting the hang of her. Kicks like a bitch but..."

Rory stood up, grinding her teeth, and Daryl knew she would try to lunge, so he instantly held his arm out keeping her behind him. 

"I should've done it." He spat.

"What's that? Seriously, I didn't catch what you said."

"I should have killed you."

"Yeah, you probably should've." He chuckled. "So here we are. Kinda begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this but... she wasn't even the one I was aiming for. Like I said... kicks like a bitch."

"You motherfucking-"

"It's nothing personal, Rory." Dwight's eyes traveled down to her bandaged forearm. "Chelle gave you one of those personalized tattoos of hers before she kicked the bucket, huh? Not the way we usually do things, but..." He shrugged. "You pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?"

"What do you want?" Rosita asked.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I didn't catch your name. I'm D or Dwight. You can call me either. What's your name?"

"Rosita. What do you want."

"Well, _Rosita_ , it's not what I want. It's what you, sweet Rory, and Daryl are going to do. You're going to let us into your little complex, it looks just beautiful in there... and then you're going to let us take whatever and whoever we want... or..." He grabbed Eugene by the hair, and Eugene blubbered, looking up at them pleadingly. "We blow Eugene's brains out. And then yours, and then yours, and then his. I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die, we just try and start with one. You know, maximum impact to get our point across. So what's it gonna be? You tell me."

Rory walked a bit forward, her hand brushing against Daryl's. Her eyes burned as she looked around at his small army, trying to think of a solution that didn't involve giving away Alexandria. She had no clue who Negan was, but he had already ruined a fraction of her life, she couldn't imagine what he could do to an entire town.

"You wanna kill someone?" Eugene asked. "Start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He's a first-class a-hole and he deserves it so much more than us four."

Rory's eyebrows raised, realizing that Eugene had probably gone on a run with Abraham at the same time they had. Dwight's burned face turned to one of his men, and then to a bunch of rusted barrels.

"Go check it out." 

While they watched for Abraham to be revealed, Eugene took a deep breath, leaning forward to bite at Daryl's nether regions. He let out a cry, and that was when Rory grabbed at the gun Dwight had dropped, shooting at anyone that she could, while defending Denise's body, and making sure it wasn’t damaged more.

She watched Dwight call for them to fall back once Eugene's teeth had let go of his crotch, and Daryl grabbed his retrieved crossbow, turning to Rory, who had been shooting from her spot next to Denise. She had dropped the gun once they had left, and was slowly pulling the bolt out of Denise’s face.

Eugene had been shot in the side in the crossfire, but Rory couldn't move from her spot beside her work partner. 

After Denise had gotten taken care of the best Rory could, she grabbed the gun that Dwight had dropped, fully prepared to go after them. She grabbed her knife from where it had been pulled off of her and shoved it back into the sheath, ready to go, and when she tried to run towards them, Daryl wrapped his arms around her torso, lifting her in the air to try and stop her. She fought as Daryl pulled her off the ground by underneath her arms, kicking her legs. She looked towards where the Saviors had run off.

"I'm gonna kill them! I'm gonna fucking kill them now!" 

She had guaranteed Denise's safety at the apothecary. She had promised she would see Tara again, and that they would celebrate her birthday. All of those things had been so important to Rory at the moment, and now they were gone, like ghosts in the wind.

"Not yet..." Daryl grunted into her ear. "We will... but not yet. Help me... please." He asked her, and she stopped flailing, her face falling into his arm. He could only hold her for a few minutes, and then she had to help him carry Denise's body back home, while Rory and Abraham carried an injured Eugene.

The first thing that she had to do when she got back home was treat Eugene, which she did easily, though she couldn't help but wonder how much easier it would have been with Denise's help.

They buried her amongst other unmarked graves back at Alexandria, and Rory watched from afar, seeing Daryl take sips from the liquor bottles they had found back on their run. She went back to the infirmary and took care of her single patient, and when the sun went down, she finally left.

Rory didn't want to go back to her house. She didn't want to be alone, she was tired of the silence. She carried herself to Daryl's house, finding him on the porch, a bottle of booze in his hands. She went up the steps and pulled the bottle out of his hands, setting it beside him. She pulled him up to stand, and lead him inside of his house, and upstairs, to his bed.

She slept curled around him for the first time in weeks and realized that she would fall apart if she never did again.


	29. twenty-eight

_"Didn't even notice... got your bike back."_

_Carol sat down at Daryl's porch, lighting up a cigarette while Daryl wiped down his bike. Daryl nodded towards her cigarette._

_"Yeah, you got another one of those?"_

_Carol nodded with a sigh and he backed up to sit next to her on his steps. He took a cigarette from her and let her assist him in lighting it. He took a long drag, his eyes running over his bike._

_"Thanks..."_

_"Those people you met with Rory, the ones in the burnt forest, they took it from you?"_

"Yeah."

_"You saved them, right?"_

_Daryl was silent. He didn't want to think about the mistake he had made. He had let Rory down._

_"Sorry," Carol remarked. "It's who you are. We're still stuck with that."_

_"No, we ain't. I should've killed them."_

_Carol shrugged, pushing the rest of her cigarettes towards his hand, bumping into his fingertips. She put out her cigarette and stood up, brushing herself off. Daryl, with a last-minute thought, called after her._

_"Hey, the one's that took you, Rory, and Maggie, what'd they do to you?"_

_"To Maggie and I?" Carol chuckled. "They didn't do anything. To Rory... everything."_

......................

If peace wasn't Rory's rhythmic breathing against his neck, Daryl didn't know what peace was, and he assumed he never would.

However, he knew the peace; her hands tucked underneath him, her head on his chest, it couldn't last. Though he promised her revenge, he wouldn't bring her into danger with him. 

He was going back to the railroad tracks. He would get revenge for Rory, for Denise, for Alexandria.

Daryl's head pounded as he gently pushed the sleeping Rory off of his chest, holding gently onto her wrists and setting them onto the sheets. He changed clothes quickly, and laced up his boots at the bottom of the bed near her feet. Before he left, he pulled the comforter they had shared over her shoulders, not expecting her to jolt awake, but she did, her eyes fluttering.

"Where are you going?" 

"Hunting." 

"Want me to come?" She murmured, her head falling back down onto the pillow. He shook his head.

"No... I'll come back with breakfast." He lied. He told himself it was a necessary lie, and pulled his jacket on, grabbing his crossbow. He weighed it in his hands. It had been gone from his possession for so long that he had lost the comfortable feeling of it. 

It didn't matter. He was ready. He took one long look at Rory, who had fallen back asleep, and gave her a smile, before walking out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. Leaving the house, he went straight to his bike and threw his legs over. Before turning it on, he pulled out the keychain he had taken from Denise's pocket before burying her.

 _Dennis_. Her brother. She had said he reminded her of Dennis, and that she felt safe around him. 

All the doubt that he had looking at Rory washed away, and he shoved the keychain back in his pocket, revving the bike up, and driving towards the gates. He pushed the kickstand, avoiding Rosita's eyes as he pushed open the gate himself, not looking for an argument.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," He responded, getting back on his bike. Abraham, from the watchtower, spit a sunflower seed shell onto the ground next to him. 

"No shit, you got specifics?"

Daryl grunted, taking off on his bike before anyone could protest, using one hand to push his hair out of his face and behind his ears. He didn't think about the fact that it might be the last time he would see them, specifically Rory. He didn't think about the fact that Rory might have to see his bloodied body come home in somebody's arms. 

Daryl didn't think about the fact that it was possible she would have to bury him. 

He had to do this. 

On his bike, he reached the railroad tracks where Denise had died fairly quickly. There was an obvious clearing in the direction that the Saviors had gone off in, and that's where he hid his bike, underneath the brush. He could already see tracks of footprints in the dirt, and he pulled his crossbow forward, keeping it ready. 

The clearing was a large field, much like the one Rory would take him to, but without the sunflowers. He walked slowly, trying not to step on any of the prints.

He heard a snap once he got to the edge of the clearing, and he stopped, holding up his crossbow without question and firing a bolt. He walked forward into the trees, seeing Rosita pulling the bolt out of the tree, and behind her, Michonne, Glenn... and Rory.

"Watch the hell out, asshole." Rosita spat.

"I did." He snatched the arrow from her. "You shouldn't have come." He pointed at Rory. "I told you I went huntin'!" 

"You think I can't tell when you're lying? I got dressed the moment you left." She rolled her eyes at him, and he could see the hurt in them, caused by his lie. 

"You shouldn't have left," Michonne remarked.

"When Rory and I split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in the woods, in that burned out forest with them girls, put a gun to my head, tied her and I up. We even tried to help him."

"I was supposed to come with you!" Rory scoffed. "This is just as much my problem as it is yours."

"So you think it's your fault?" Glenn questioned.

"Yeah, I know it is. I'm gonna go do what I should have done before." He turned to leave, hating the look on Rory's face. She looked heartbroken, her arms folded across her chest.

"What, for her?" Glenn pointed towards the tracks. "She's gone, man. You're doing this for you."

"Man," He pushed away from him. "I don't give a shit."

"Daryl," He grabbed his shoulder, and Daryl pushed it away. "We need to get back there and figure this out from home. Our home. We need you, and everyone back there needs us right now. It's..." His voice broke. "It's gonna go wrong out there."

"We'll square it," Michonne swore. "I will. I promise you. Just come back."

Daryl looked up at Glenn, and then Rory. He shook his head. This wasn't for him. It was for Denise, it was for Rory, it was for all of the pain that they had been put through.

"I can't." He said, turning and walking towards the woods. He could hear heavy footsteps against the leaves running after him, and he raised his arm, turning around, ready to fight Glenn for trying to hold him back, but it was Rory, holding her arms up in defeat. Rosita was coming up behind her.

"I'm not letting you go alone." 

"Me either." Rosita placed a hand on Rory's shoulder. Daryl scoffed, lowering his arm, and continued walking, letting them follow. This wasn't what he wanted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop either of them. 

"Do we have a plan?" Rory asked him as he walked. Daryl shook his head.

"No. Just finding them and killing them."

"Great. So a suicide mission." Rosita smiled sarcastically, swinging her gun behind her. Rory was twirling the tip of her knife against her finger next to Daryl, continuing to sneak glances at him that he pretended he didn't notice. He had to stay focused. It's why he didn't want her there.

"It wasn't a suicide mission for you two. You could have stayed home."

"You know I can't do that," Rory told him. "I'll never be able to." 

"Don't remind me." 

"Remind you of what exactly?"

"That I'm not able to keep you safe." 

"Daryl," She held her arm out to stop him. "Do you think they would just stop with you? They would kill you, come after Alexandria, kill us. Regardless if you're there or not, it doesn't matter. You can't..." She sighed. "You can't protect me from death. It's inevitable. I get to choose when... not you."

Daryl looked at her for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. He nodded. She was right. He couldn't dictate when she wanted to die, but he was hoping he could prevent it. 

They continued walking through the woods for a few more hours, and Daryl would find a few tracks that they would follow every few minutes. Rosita and Rory spoke quietly to each other, trying to come up with a plan, and then Daryl stopped walking, holding his hand out to get them to shut up.

He could see people sitting near a tree, and he could smell the familiar scent of a fire burning. He moved closer with his crossbow, hearing Rory pull her handgun out of her holster and clicking the safety off.

Upon closer appearance, he realized it was Glenn and Michonne, bound and gagged, sitting next to a fire. Glenn spotted them, and he shook his head rapidly. He didn't want them to be caught.

Daryl held a finger up to his lips and held his crossbow up to shoot at the man that was supervising them. He was just about to pull his finger on the trigger when he felt the weight of a barrel against his head. He looked over to see guns pointed at Rory and Rosita too.

"Hi, Daryl."

Daryl lowered his crossbow and turned to look at Dwight. He couldn't even try anything before Dwight was shooting him in the shoulder, and he was falling down to the ground, dirt scraping against his face. He heard the screams of Rory over everything, and he felt shame wash over his entire being. The shame was even stronger than the pain of the bullet in his body.

He would never be able to protect Rory, no matter how hard he tried, and for that, he didn't deserve her.


	30. twenty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is really long and there is a lot of in-show dialogue that I do NOT take credit for. I took text from Season 6, episode 16 (Last Day on Earth) of The Walking Dead - written by Scott M. Gimple, and Season 7, episode 1 ( The Day Will Come When You Won't Be) also written by Scott M. Gimple. Thank you for amazing script writing, I take no credit for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is really long and there is a lot of in-show dialogue that I do NOT take credit for. I took text from Season 6, episode 16 (Last Day on Earth) of The Walking Dead - written by Scott M. Gimple, and Season 7, episode 1 ( The Day Will Come When You Won't Be) also written by Scott M. Gimple. Thank you for amazing script writing, I take no credit for it.

No. No. No. No. No.

It was the only word Rory could comprehend.

No. No. NO. Not him. It can't be him. Let it be her. Turn back time and make it her who gets shot. 

She wanted to scream, vomit, bite off her own limbs, just to get them to stop dragging him through the ground like a rag doll as they were lead to wherever the hell they were going, but all she could do was stay silent and shiver, watching Daryl's blood trickle out of his wound. He was still conscious, his eyes traveling across the sky like he was looking for heaven. 

Her face was covered in bruises, her lip split. The skin around Rosita's eye was turning into a purple bruise. Michonne was limping, and Glenn was coated in a thick sheen of sweat. Every time Rory tripped over her feet, her ankles were swat at with a switch.

The Saviors hadn't been running from them at all at that railroad. This was planned. They had been _waiting for this._

"Rory," Dwight said as they were led through the woods, her almost blindly. She couldn't see through her tears. "You look as if you've seen a ghost, sweet girl. I can assure you that you haven't seen nothin' yet." 

The men behind him chuckled. Negan's men.

"P...please..." She whispered, looking down at Daryl's tortured face.

"Hm? What's that?"

"Please let me save him. I was a nurse, just please... don't let him die." Her last few words came out as a sob, and she felt like such a coward. However, Dwight nodded, and they all stopped walking when he raised his hand out to the air. Whoever had been leading her through the forest dropped his gun from her back, and a medical bag was thrown at her feet.

"No needle and thread, so you'll have to make do." Dwight smiled, squatting down and watching Rory dig her hands through the bag. He scratched at the side of his face that had been badly burned, chuckling as her hands fumbled around the items. Eventually, she pulled out all she could use, which was a bottle of whiskey, cotton pads, and some gauze wrap. 

She, in a panicked motion, ripped his shirt to expose the wound and doused the bullet hole with the whiskey. He let out a pained grunt, grabbing onto her wrist, and Dwight laughed.

"Someone hold him down."

"No..." She shook her head, her tears flying from her eyes. "I'm fine, just..." 

She put her bloodied hands on his face, and his eyes softened, full of tears. "Look at me, Daryl. It's alright." She wiped the tears away.

She dabbed the blood away with the cotton pads, and he cried out, the sting of the alcohol being spread around hurting worse. Once the worst part was over, she used all of the strength in her jaw to tear one of his sleeves off with her teeth, pushing it against his wound, and keeping it there with the wrap. There was no exit wound on his back, so it was the best she could do with what they had. 

"What do you say?" Dwight asked, grinning his yellow teeth. "Magic words."

"T...thank you." She spat as Daryl let out a pant from the pain, clawing at her arm. He tried to get up himself, and Rory helped him, throwing his arm around her shoulder, and using all of her strength to keep him upright, his feet flat on the ground.

"You're gonna be okay." She whispered to him, squeezing his hand that dangled from her neck. Her lip quivered. "Please be okay."

She repeated it in her head. 

_Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay._

Eventually, they reached a road outside of the woods, that was teaming with Saviors, all watching them with smiles. A few tried to speak to them as they walked by, following Dwight's team, but Dwight just held up his hands.

"You'll meet our new friends in a little bit, boys and girls... when their other friends show up."

Daryl jolted his jaw up as best he could, looking at Dwight. "What the fuck are you talking about? What friends?"

"Oh, you'll see." 

"No..." He whimpered, and Rory squeezed his hand.

"Calm down..." She whispered, pulling him to follow them. She looked back at Rosita, who seemed just as worried as Daryl, pressing her lips together. They came to a large, metal, yellow trailer. Dwight's men opened the doors.

"Climb in."

"What?" Michonne asked.

"We'll get you in a bit," Dwight reassured her, knocking his gun against the trailer, making a large echoey sound. Rory hesitantly climbed up with Daryl into the corner, and pulled him into the farthest corner. They sat down, and he clutched to her like a toddler to its mother, completely trembling and close to tears. Rosita took the other corner, bringing her knees to her chest. Michonne took the spot closest to the door, and Glenn stayed towards the middle, pushing his back up against the wall and shivering.

Dwight gave them a bright, crooked grin, and then slammed the trailer door closed, and locking it. The only light they could see from a few holes at the top of the trailer doors. 

Saviors, around the entire trailer, all banged against it with their fists, and the three of them jumped all at once, trying to clear out the sound of the banging. It lasted for ten minutes, before they stopped, cackling. Their trembling was probably so loud that they could hear it from outside, the vibrations rattling the entire floor.

Rory closed her eyes, trying to keep her lip from quivering. She thought of the sunflowers, the feeling of Daryl's hands in her hair, the texture of the couch where they would sleep together. She grabbed Daryl's hand, and pressed it to her cheek, trying to do anything to feel like she wasn't there. 

They all watched silently as the sun started to set, the shadows that the sun was casting slowly turning to complete black. They couldn't hear anything from outside if it wasn't directly close to the trailer, but Rory wasn't sure they wanted to. 

What they did hear, however, was a large floodlight clicking on some hours later, and the sound of a thousand whistles all throughout the woods, playing the same ghastly tune. 

Rory stood up, and Daryl immediately tried to pull her back down.

"I need to see..." She whispered to him, but he shook his head, yanking on her wrist. She fell on her ass next to him, and he kept gripping her wrist.

"I can't lose you." 

"Daryl, what are we-"

Rory was cut off at the sound of the doors of the trailer, and the bright light flooding into her eyes. The Saviors came barreling into the trailer, grabbing each of them by the arm, and dragging them out. Rory let out a whimper as she was pried away from Daryl, and dragged into the night, onto the dirt. 

"Come on, you got people to meet." 

The man pushed her to her knees, and she looked up, to see she was kneeling next to in between Sasha and Rick. She looked farther down to see that everyone was there; Maggie, Sasha, Eugene, Carl, Abraham, Aaron. Everyone. They all looked either sick or about to be sick, Maggie especially. She was pale and heaving, her hair covered in sweat. Rory's heart broke for her, but all she could do was dig her nails into her jeans and try not to vomit herself.

"Alright!" The man in front smiled. "We got a full boat." He pointed to an RV behind him. "Let's meet the man." 

The door to the RV opened, revealing a dark figure. All Rory could see was bright teeth as he smiled, and asked a question in a Southern drawl.

"Pissin' our pants yet?"

As he walked forward, the floodlight revealed an older, slim man, in a leather jacket, a red bandana wrapped around his neck. On his shoulder, he carried a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, and he swung it around, smiling at all them.

"Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." He nodded. "Yep, it's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

Someone behind Rick pointed. "This one. This is the guy." 

The man turned towards Rick, walking towards him. His eyes scanned over the sweaty, fearful man, and he grinned.

"Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan, and I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people! Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes." 

Negan grinned straight white teeth. 

"You see Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world over, and the new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So even if you're stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it. You ready?"

Rick's eyes stared at the ground, the same as every person on their knees. "Give me your shit, or I will kill you." He smiled, crossing over to look at all of them. "Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do." He pointed his bat towards Rick. "You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job, and now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you must, and you most certainly will. You ruled the roost, you built something." 

His eyes flickered across Rory, and she narrowed them. He chuckled, leaning forward to look at her closer.

"You thought you were safe," He enunciated the word, spit flying into her face. "I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged, more pegged if you don't do what I want, and _what I want_ is half of your shit. And if that's too much... you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later."

He pulled away from her face and swung his bat around in his hands, inches away from catching on their skin.

"This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door... you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down."

Rory shut her eyes. She couldn't imagine a circumstance where they got out of this situation. Surrounding them in the woods were more people than the entirety of Alexandria. 

"What, no answer? You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don't wanna kill you people, just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?"

Rory turned to look at Daryl, to see that he was looking at her. Through his wandering eyes, she could see him planning something, and she shook her head, just in the slightest. This wasn't the time to get angry. This was the time to be submissive. It was their only choice.

"I'm not growing a garden... but... you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with, and for that, you're gonna pay. So now..." His smile grew wider on his evil face. "I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you." 

_Think of the sunflowers._

His bat swung, and he held the tip of it to Rick's face. Rick bowed his head down, avoiding the barbed wire almost going directly into his eye.

"This... this is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this, all this just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

Negan inhaled sharply through his nose, walking down the line. He turned and stopped at Abraham, who was kneeling straight up, like a bullet flying through the air. Negan scratched at his facial hair.

"Ugh, I gotta shave this shit."

He moved on down the line, stopping at Carl, who was sat next to Sasha. "You got one of our guns."

Carl's eyes narrowed.

"You got a lot of our guns. Shit kid, lighten up. At least cry a little." He chuckled, adjusting the belt of his pants and moving away from Carl. Rory didn't realize that he had stood in front of her until she felt the tip of his bat tilting her chin up. 

"What's under that bandage, sweetheart," He smiled. "Huh?"

_Think of the sunflowers. Think of the sunflowers._

Rory didn't answer, eyes following along the line to Daryl, who was leaning forward, pleading with his eyes for nothing to happen to her. 

Negan set the bat down and held up his hand. "May I?" 

He didn't wait for her to raise it, he simply grabbed her shaking forearm and unwrapped the gauze, revealing his name in angry, raised white letters. It had been healed for a while, but she still always kept it covered.

"Aw, I don't even know you and you've got my name right there to remember forever." He smiled, running his finger along it. She shivered, pulling her arm away quickly. He chuckled, standing up from where he had squatted down to look at her, moving further down to look at Maggie.

"Jesus... you look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now."

"NO!" Glenn scrambled to his feet but was instantly brought down by Dwight, who held Daryl's crossbow to his head. "STOP IT!" 

"Nope, nope. Get him back in line." Negan shook his head.

"No..." Glenn cried as they dragged him back to the line onto his back. He let out a scream as he looked over at his pregnant wife. "Don't... no..."

_Think of the sunflowers. Think of the sunflowers._

"Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free, it's an emotional moment, I get it." 

Rory could feel Rick shaking next to her, physically trembling, and she grabbed onto his arm, linking it with hers. Negan looked down at the moment, and made a coo, pointing his bat at Carl.

"This is your kid, right? This is definitely your kid."

"JUST STOP THIS!" Rick demanded, his arm straining against Rory's grip. His hair was completely soaked and dripping with sweat, dribble falling down his mouth. 

"Hey! Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody. _Everybody's_ at the table waiting for me to order." 

He walked slowly down the line once more, whistling. He did a little dance when he reached Daryl's end, swinging his bat from side to side. "I simply cannot decide..." He stomped his foot to the ground. "I got an idea." 

His bat pointed towards Rick first.

"Eenie..."

He went one by one down the line, to each face, painfully slow. Every time the bat went to Rory's head, she ducked a little further, like she was trying to dig a hole for herself in the ground.

_"Meenie... miney... moe. Catch a tiger... by...his toe. If... he hollers... let him go. My mother... told me... to pick the very best one... and you... are... it."_

The bat had landed on Abraham. Rory could feel it by his deep sigh, even as she stared completely forward. She couldn't move, tears falling from her eyes freely as Negan laughed.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you're all going to be doing that."

She heard the crack of the bat, and then another, and then another. It squelched and cracked in her ears, and all she could do was stare forward, jumping at each hit.

"Taking it like a champ! Damn!" 

Sasha let out a pained scream next to her, and Rory grabbed her hand, squeezing it. She brought the hand that was wrapped around Rick's arm to her face, slapping it, trying to wake herself up, but all she could hear was the squelching. She felt blood splattering onto her face, and she shook her head, letting out a pained sob. It was real, it had always been real. 

She buried her head in her knees as he continued, and it went on for an exponentially long time. Each hit felt like more of her soul was leaving her body. When he finally stopped, he swung his bat across the air, and blood swatted across her face. The blood of her friend.

"You guys!" Negan cheered. "Look at my dirty girl! Sweetheart," He held the bat up to Rosita, who looked like she had just died with him. "Lay your eyes on this... oh... oh damn... Were you together? That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red, and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red... He just took one, or six, or SEVEN for the team! So take... a damn look." 

Rosita looked down, hyperventilating, but Negan wasn't having it. "TAKE A DAMN LOOK!" 

That was when Rory heard a punch, and she looked up to see Daryl going at him. She screamed out for him to stop as he was pulled back and kneed in the ribs, and thrown down back onto the ground. They held him back by a chokehold, and Negan held his bat up towards him.

"NO!" Rory yelled out. "Please don't-"

"Oh my! That is a no-no. The whole thing - not one bit of that shit flies here."

Rory shook her head as he waved the bat against his head, teasing it. Dwight held up the crossbow.

"Want me to do it? Right here."

"No... no, you don't kill them. Not until you try a little."

They pulled him back to the line and onto his knees as Daryl grunted angrily, and Rory's eyes burned with anger. 

"Anyway, that's not how it works. Now, I already told you, people, first one's free, then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... but I'm a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So... back to it."

The bat swung faster than Rory's eyes could dart to it, and she could see Glenn's body hit the ground. She felt vomit rising in her throat, and she just let it go in front of her, her ears burning at the sound of Maggie screaming mixed with the squelch of her husband's head getting beat in. Rory felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest, as she keeled over.

"Buddy, you still there?" Negan laughed. "I just don't know... it seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard, your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!" 

Glenn choked on his own blood as he tried to stay upright, blood trickling down his head. His eye was completely out of his socket, and he said one sentence before falling to the ground.

_"Maggie... I'll find you."_

Maggie let out a scream, and Negan grunted out uncomfortably. "Oh, oh hell. I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry, I truly am. But I did say it." He brought the bat down on his head again. "NO EXCEPTIONS!" 

He did as many blows as he did Abraham, and then more, over and over and over. Rory could feel her entire body shaking and giving out to her weight as she grabbed onto Sasha, holding onto her shirt. 

"She is a vampire bat!" He moved away from the body and looked over to Rick, who had narrowed his eyes up at him. "What... was the joke that bad?"

"I'm gonna kill you."

"What? I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up."

Rick inhaled sharply through his nose. "Not today... not tomorrow, but I'm gonna kill you."

"Jesus..." Negan shook his head. "Simon... what did he have, a knife?"

"Uh, he had a hatchet," A balding man responded from behind them.

"A hatchet?"

"He had an ax."

Negan chuckled again. "Simon's my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without them? A whole lot of work. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Or did I..."

He knocked the bat gently against his head while clicking his tongue, and even that made Rory jump. He stared Rick straight through the eyes.

"Sure, yeah. Give me his ax."

There were a few moments of them staring, and then Rick's ax was placed in Negan's hand. He pulled Rick up towards the RV in front of them. "I'll be right back. Maybe Rick will be with me, and if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won't we? I mean..." He pushed Rick inside of the RV and stepped up one of the steps. "The ones that are left."

Rory looked down in front of her. Abraham and Glenn's brains had splattered all the way to the front of where she sat and mixed with her vomit, and she pushed away from it like it was Negan himself.

The RV drove off, and once it was gone, Maggie let out a sharp scream, burying her head in her hands. Sasha let go of Rory and grabbed onto Maggie, who was on her right, letting her fall apart into her lap. Rory just held onto her knees, burying her face in it, trying to avoid the entire group of people that were watching their every move.

As the sun came back up, the reality of what had happened grew. The splatter of blood became brighter, turning brown as it congealed. No one had so much as moved, except for the trembling and the wiping away of tears. 

She thought of the sunflowers, but every time she pictured them, they were coated in red. The sky was red, the grass, the sun. All blood-colored.

The RV returned after a few hours, and Negan dragged Rick out of it, and onto the ground.

"Here we are. Let me ask you something, Rick - do you even know what that little trip was about? Speak when you're spoken to."

Rick didn't answer, staring at the ground. Rory looked up just for a moment to see that his eyes were completely bloodshot, and he was covered in walker blood.

"That trip was about the way you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand, but you're still looking at me the same damn way... like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So... do I give you another chance?"

Negan squatted next to him and waited for an answer. Negan nodded.

"Yes... yes.."

Negan patted his back. "Okay, alright! And here it is, the grand prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads."

Rory felt a gun cock against her neck.

"Good, now... level with their noses, so if you have to fire... it'll be a real mess." He pointed to Carl and motioned for him to stand up and walk over to him. Carl obeyed. "You a Southpaw?"

"Am I what?"

"You a lefty?"

"No." 

"No, good." He grabbed his belt from his waist and wrapped it around Carl's arm. "That hurt?"

"No."

"Ah, should. It's supposed to. Alright, get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings. Simon, you got a pen?"

Simon, the balding man, nodded and tossed Negan a pen. Negan caught it, kneeling down next to Carl. "This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm." He drew a line across his arm.

He was gonna cut it off. 

"There you go. Gives you a little leverage."

"Please... please don't." Rick pleaded.

"Me?" Negan stood up, capping the pen. "I ain't doin' shit. Rick, I want you to take your ax and cut your son's left arm off, right on that line. Now I know you're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die, and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years just so you can stew on it."

"Take my arm instead," Rory spoke up, bringing her face up from her knees. "Cut my arm off, please. Not..." She shook her head. "Not the boy, we under-"

"You understand, sweet thing. I'm not sure that Rick does. I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now I know this is a screwed up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice, nothing messy, clean, forty-five degrees. Give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor - the kid'll be fine."

Rick almost didn't do it as Negan continued with threats that broke Rory's heart. He blubbered like a toddler as Negan slapped him, and eventually gave him a countdown, demanding him to do it. Eventually, he grabbed the ax and raised it, and then Negan stopped him with a hand.

"Rick. You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?"

Rick nodded rapidly.

"SPEAK WHEN YOU'RE SPOKEN TO."

"You answer to me. You provide for me."

"...provide for you."

"You belong to me, right?"

"Right..." Rick nodded, completely broken.

"That," He pointed to Rick's completely soulless face. "That is the look I wanted to see. We did it... all of us, together, even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake, that you get it now, that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you... that is over now."

Negan swung his bat, pointing to Daryl. " Dwight, load him up."

Rory's head shot up to look at Daryl, and she shook his head. His being alive was the only thing that was keeping her sane.

"No... no... no. Please, not him-"

She watched Daryl struggle, and stare at her with his lifeless eyes as he got pushed into the back of the truck, the doors closing behind him.

"Don't worry. We're not killing your boyfriend. He's got guts," He turned to look at Rick. "Not like a little bitch I know. I like him. He's mine now. But you still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of... Hell's his name?"

"Daryl."

"Wow... that actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep, or better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me." He laughed, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Welcome to a brand new beginning you sorry shits! I'm gonna leave you a truck, keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week."

He turned towards the RV and gave them all a little salute, grinning. He ran his hand over his salt and pepper beard, tossing his bat in the air.

"Until then... ta."

Rory watched the truck Daryl had been put in drive away, completely broken inside. She could see his eyes through the window, watching her, scanning across his friends, looking at the corpses. 

Once all of the Saviors were gone, she dug into the ground with all of her strength, and then brought her fist into the ground, pounding her knuckles into the gravel. She pounded into the ground so hard that she could see the blood splattering from her fingers, and Aaron had to pull her away from it, dragging her into his chest.

She clutched the back of his jacket as she buried herself in him, wishing it was Daryl, wishing it was anywhere but where they were sitting. Maggie had been trying to stand and walk over to Glenn's body, yelling at Rick about an army, and fighting them, but Rory didn't know how that would ever be possible.

They were so blind and so helpless.

Sasha agreed to take Maggie, and Glenn and Abraham's corpse to Hilltop with them. Rory volunteered to assist, and no one had enough energy to say no. Rory wasn't needed anywhere, she never was. She was some helpless girl with nothing to lose anymore. She had nothing left but the sheer will to protect her family, and that's what she would die doing.

She left her entire soul, as a bloodied body on the road. She could almost see herself there, lying dead, because that's how she felt. It's how she would always feel after this. A feeling that was next to nothingness, but grief and pain. 

That grief and pain was enough motivation to keep her awake.


	31. thirty

_A baby crying._

_Daryl opened his eyes, and the first thing he heard was a baby crying. He felt like he was lying on a cloud, and when he opened his eyes, he almost thought he was until he realized it was just his bed. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Rory stirring next to him. He could tell from the silhouette of her curves in the dark, and the little sigh she made as she sat up, her hair cascading down her shoulders._

_It was longer than it usually was, reaching the dimple at the bottom of her spine. She readjusted the straps of her tank top and looked over at Daryl, reaching over to pat his arm._

_"I'll get her."_

_"Her?" Daryl grumbled, pushing the comforter down. Something didn't feel right._

_"Our daughter?"_

_"Daughter...our daughter."_

_"You're funny, Daryl." She yawned, standing up. "She's probably just hungry."_

_She left the room, and after a few minutes, the crying of the infant ceased, and he heard little shushes from Rory, and coos from the child._

Why didn't Daryl remember anything? He didn't even remember being asleep.

_He sat up from the bed and pushed the comforter off of himself, letting his feet fall onto the hardwood floor of his bedroom. He stood up and followed down the hallway to the sound of the baby cooing._

_He found Rory sat in a rocking chair, holding a bundle of blankets in one hand, and a bottle in the other. When he got closer, he could see that there was a baby inside that bundle, with brown tufts of hair poking from underneath the blanket. Daryl smiled, despite his confusion, and kneeled down to sit beside what seemed to be his family._

_Their daughter's eyes fluttered open and closed, and as they did, he could see that the girl had his eyes. The piercing, blue ones, that seemed to always be angry. It made him chuckle as she wrapped her little hand around his finger while she drank from the bottle._

_"Rosemary is such a little devil, isn't she?" Rory asked, turning to look at him with soft eyes. Daryl looked up at her, shocked._

_Rosemary. Rosemary had been his mother's name._

_He had hated his mother. His mother had left him when he was a baby._

_Something wasn't right._

_This wasn't real. It couldn't be. Good things like this didn't happen to Daryl._

_"You're not real." He murmured, letting go of the baby's hand to run his finger along her nose. Rory smiled at him, tears in her eyes, and shook her head._

_"You've always been so smart."_

_"Then what is this?" Daryl asked, pulling his hand away from his imaginary child. "Why am I here?"_

_"You're reminding yourself of the things that you want. The things you're staying alive for." She looked down at the baby. "What you were looking forward to. Hoping for."_

_"Where am I really?"_

_"A cell in the Sanctuary. The Saviors, remember?"_

_Daryl closed his eyes. He could feel that horrible floodlight, and the sound of two of his friend's heads being bashed in with Negan's bat. He flinched, even at the thought of it, and nodded, eyelids slowly falling open again._

_"What do I do?"_

_Rory looked at him, and then at the child, standing up and setting her back down into the crib. She kneeled down to where Daryl sat, almost pulling herself into his lap, and grabbed his face, making him look her in the eye._

_"Remember me. Remember who you're fighting for, and keep fighting." She whispered. "Please keep fighting."_

_Her lips pressed against his, and he felt himself falling slowly back into consciousness, the feeling of her lips becoming duller with every second. Eventually, the feeling of her warm skin was replaced with cold pavement, and her hair falling over his face was actually a scratchy sweater underneath his head. He kept his eyes closed as her lips fell completely away, though they darted open at a single sound._

_"We're on easy street, and it feels so sweet! 'Cause the world is but a treat when you're on easy street!"_


	32. thirty-one

One hundred and twenty hours.

Seventy-two thousand minutes.

_Five days._

It had been five days since Negan had done _what he did_ , and it had been four days since Rory, Sasha, and Maggie had come to Hilltop. 

Maggie and Glenn's baby, luckily, had been fine. She had suffered from _abruptio placentae_ , most likely due to the stress of living in the goddamned apocalypse. The doctor had ordered that they stayed at Hilltop for the duration of her pregnancy to be safe, though Rory wasn't buying it. 

She wanted Maggie to stay, but she wanted to get Daryl back. The only problem is that she had no clue where they were, and Jesus refused to tell her. 

Jesus had been a backbone for Rory, almost like a brother. The night they had made it there, she had carried an unconscious Maggie to the medical trailer, and once she was safely inside, Rory had fallen into his arms, shaking against his shoulders. She slept on the floor of his trailer every night, across from Sasha, while Maggie took the couch. She would wake up from nightmares, hearing the squelching of brains and skull, and Jesus would be there.

He was worried about her, she could tell. She hadn't eaten in those five days that she had been there, except for a single apple in the morning. All she would do is sit at their walls, patrolling, and waiting for Saviors to come. She would stare at walkers roaming across the ground, knocking into each other. Occasionally, she would practice her aim on them, visualizing each of them with Negan's head. 

At the dawn of the fifth day, Rory did what she always did, grabbing an apple from their garden and climbing up to the post at the top of the gate. This time, Jesus was up there waiting for her this time, his hair tied up in a loose bun with wisps of hair flying from it. He was sat nonchalantly with his legs over the rails like he had been waiting for her.

"What're you doing up here?" She asked him as she set her borrowed rifle onto the post, and climbed up, positioning her legs in the same way as him. 

His smile faded, and he watched her take a bite of the apple.

"Gregory wants you all to leave." 

"What?" She frowned, her brows pressing together. "Why?"

"You put a risk to our people. If the Saviors know you're here, they'll kill us, and then you." 

"So his plan is to just throw us to the wind?"

"Maggie wants to leave tomorrow. Gregory is letting you guys spend the night. I'll escort you back home."

She looked down at her bandaged knuckles, that were bruised up her fingertips from punching the gravel at that crossroad until they bled. She wasn't sure if she could accept leaving, not until she got Daryl back. Jesus nudged her with his elbow.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm not leaving." She looked up at him. "Gregory wants to talk to me about it? Fine. But I'm not. Not until I get Daryl back to me." 

Jesus scoffed, bringing his legs up to turn to his side and look her in the eye. She turned back at him, unafraid of the eye contact, their knees pressed together. 

"And how do you exactly propose how to do that? You don't know where their base is, how many people they have at that base, how many weapons, what they have for defenses-"

"It'd be easier if you could just tell me." She poked his knee. "I know you know. I could try and find them from Alexandria, but I know you don't want me to do that." 

"You'll die, Rory. Before you ever reach him."

They were silent, Rory letting the reality of the danger sink in. Without Jesus, she didn't know how to get to him, no matter how much ammo she had. She looked up at him.

"Come with."

Jesus opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him.

"I...I know it's a lot to ask, and it's dangerous, but you said yourself that you know your way around the Sanctuary. I'll do whatever you ask, just let me..." 

She looked down at her lap, becoming too aware at the fact that anything could have happened to Daryl in five days. He could have been killed, he could be beaten to a pulp just like Glenn or Abraham. It could have happened right after he was towed away. She dug her nails into her thighs. 

"Let me bring him home." 

Jesus pried her hands off of her legs and held them in his, trying to ground her. "Rory... what if we go and he's not..."

"We'll..." She looked up at him, his face a blurry oil painting with the tears stuck in her eyes. "We will bring him home and bury him."

Jesus let out a long sigh through his nose, and nodded, letting go of one of her hands to scratch at the back of his neck. Strands of hair fell out of his hair as he did it, and then finally, he nodded.

"We'll go, but we take Maggie and Sasha home first."

Rory nodded. "Okay."

"And you listen to me when we go."

"Agreed." She let a small smile curl upon her face as she nodded for a final time. "Though I think that you could change Gregory's mind." 

"I can certainly try." He sighed out in annoyance, pushing her. 

Rory did patrol for half of the day, soaking in the sun and the cool autumn breeze. Jesus had stayed with her for a few hours, and they chatted about things to take their minds off of the heavy weight of what had happened to their friends. He asked her what had happened between her and Daryl, why she cared about him so much, and she told him everything.

The bar, the school, the sunflower field, the kiss at the satellite base, how every night they would sleep in the same bed and hold each other to lessen the feeling of being alone. 

Jesus told her about his past boyfriends, how he had come to find Hilltop, and how he had grown up as an orphan after he ran away from his abusive parents, and it was where he had learned to defend himself. 

After her patrolling was over, she crawled down the watchtower to see that Maggie was waiting for her, with a solemn smile on her face. 

"Hey, what's up?" Rory asked, pushing her gun behind her back with the strap. Maggie chewed on her lip, cheeks flushing. She was pale, holding onto her stomach. Rory's face fell, and she got closer. "Are you okay?"

Maggie grabbed her hand and very quickly pressed her hand to her stomach. Rory let out a surprised gasp at the feeling. She could feel a light tumbling inside Maggie's abdomen like bubbles were popping in her stomach, but more solid. 

"This is the first time the baby has kicked!" Maggie cheered sadly, tears streaming down her face. 

"This early?"

"I'm almost four months along." She mumbled, putting her hand above Rory's. "I wish Glenn could feel it."

Rory felt her face burn, and she moved her hand to be over Maggie's. "He can. I know he can."

That interaction with Maggie drove her over the edge that night, as she laid down on the floor next to Jesus's bed. She promised herself she would watch the light leave Negan's eyes and every single Savior who was instrumental in causing the pain within her family. She wanted a list of names from him before she killed him, and then she would do it. She would kill him slowly, and painfully, and she would enjoy every second of it. 

She promised it to Maggie in her head, still feeling the tumble of that baby in her belly long after it had left her skin. 

Rory had been close to being asleep with the satisfaction of her revenge when a sound burst from outside of the trailer, making her shoot straight up. Sasha was already up, turning the light on, and peering out of the window.

"What is that?" Maggie asked.

"The gates are open. There are fires. The music is coming from a car."

"What?" Rory asked, turning to see that Jesus wasn't in the room, or in his bed. She crossed over to the window, seeing exactly what Sasha had described. There was a large fire in the car, and it was blaring some sort of classical music.

"I have to turn that thing off," Maggie grunted, reaching for a chair in the kitchen area of the trailer.

Maggie was right. The sound was loud enough to bring an entire hoard to Hilltop.

"Dr. Carson told you to stay off your feet. Rory will help." She said, lifting the chair onto the table.

"I'm not letting you guys do this by yourself."

"Sit," Sasha ordered, letting Rory climb up through a trap door to the roof of the trailer, and then following suit herself. Maggie passed up her gun, and she grabbed it, hearing Sasha curse behind her. When she looked up, she could see that there were walkers coming in droves, towards the trailer. 

"Come on!" Rory called to Sasha, bracing herself as she jumped off of the trailer. She used the butt of her gun to knock walkers down, and Sasha would impale their brains with the knife. They could both see that Jesus had come to assist the two of them, keeping a close circle. 

Once there were few walkers surrounding them, Rory made her way to the car, to find that the interior had been locked down with metal grates, and sealed with a crafted middle finger welded onto the front of it. She cursed, banging on it with the butt of her gun, the music starting to give her a headache. She pulled at it with her fingers, but it wouldn't budge. 

It had been the Saviors. She felt her chest heave and she hit at the grate, letting out a groan as it failed to fall apart under her touch. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, turning to see that it was only Jesus. "Nice night, huh?"

"A great one," She groaned, still pulling at the grates.

"That's no use." He shook his head, trying with her. Rory's head turned, seeing someone driving a large tractor through the dirt, coming straight towards the car. As she got closer, she saw it was Maggie, who was motioning for her and Jesus to back away from the car. She did, and they took down walkers as she used the tractor to run over the entire car, finally ceasing the music.

The gates were shut within a few minutes, but it took hours to take out every walker, luckily with no casualties. 

The next day, Gregory was more than grateful to them, but when they barged into his office to demand his refuge, he turned them down, downing a glass of whiskey while he did it. Jesus was sat right in front of his desk, his hand over his face. He seemed exhausted over a previous argument, and Rory assumed it was the same thing.

"I was just telling Ms. Caitlin to bring up some of her famous rhubarb preserves for you three. It's our way of saying thank you for helping out last night."

"It's Ms. Mailtlin." Jesus scoffed. 

"You can take them with you go, and you should go now because the Saviors could get back any minute."

Sasha stepped forward. "I'll go. Rory will go." She pointed to Maggie. "But let her stay. We'll call it even on last night."

"No deal." Gregory smiled, smoothing over the non-existent hair on his head. "But it's been lovely having you here."

"Do you get off on leaving pregnant women in the dust?" Rory asked, leaning against the doorframe. "On being an asshole?"

"You've got fire, I like it, maybe we could meet one-on-one to-"

"FUCK YOU!" Rory stepped forward, and Jesus was up in a single second, putting his arm out in front of her as Gregory began to cower like a child again, pushing his chair back away from her. 

"No, you know what? I'm sorry, I'm gonna tell Ms. Caitlin to keep her preserves." 

Rory pushed Jesus's arm away from her, biting the insides of her cheeks. She heard the sound of a truck outside, and her head turned, peering out of the window. Gregory gasped, standing up, and she knew from the fear in his face that it was the Saviors.

"You know what they'll do if they find you here? Jesus, get them in the closet."

"Gregory..."

"Go, get in there now. You don't move, you don't speak, and maybe you'll get out of this alive." 

"You're just as terrible as them." Rory seethed before Jesus was pushing them towards a bedroom, and into a closet.

All Rory could hear was Jesus shuffling around the room, and Sasha and Maggie breathing heavily behind her. They had kept Maggie deep in the back of the closet like there would be a chance to save her if the Saviors opened up the door. 

"He thinks I put you in the hallway closet," Jesus confessed through the door. "He was going to give you guys up." 

Sasha let out an angry, hot breath that Rory could feel on her neck. Rory herself was clenching her nails into her palms, holding back the urge to burst out of the room and beg them to tell her where Daryl was, and if he was okay. 

They were in that closet for an hour before Jesus was opening it back up, the light burning Rory's eyes. She heard Gregory curse as he revealed where they were, and she could see a small smile on Jesus's face.

"I told you to hide them in the hallway closet!"

"No, you said closet."

"This is my bedroom! What if they came in here before I-"

"Before you tried to give us up?" Maggie asked, crossing her arms. "They would have killed you first.

"Honey, I'm talking to Jesus."

"Stop!" Jesus demanded him.

"Why are you defending here? We're here right now because she and Rich didn't handle things like they said they would."

"The Saviors tried to kill you!" 

"That was a misunderstanding, and as soon as the Saviors leave, we get them the hell out of here before something bad really happens."

"STOP!" Jesus said again. "They're staying... or do you want to make it public? You want to make the deal with Alexandria public? Lose your plausible deniability? Lose your position?"

Gregory stared at him, eyes squinting like he was trying to read the words he had said off his forehead. "So you're gonna be in charge now?"

"No. It's just that you won't be. Maggie, Rory, and Sasha are staying. I'm staying. We're all gonna be one big happy dysfunctional family."

Gregory chuckled, his eyes widening. "So we will be, and I'll see us through this. I made progress with them today. You saw it."

"That's not what I saw."

"Yeah? Well, it's what happened." He crossed over towards Maggie. "We play nice, they place nice. See, dear? Saviors can actually be quite reasonable."

Maggie's fist drew back and came forward into Gregory's jaw at that moment, an audible seething coming from her mouth. She reached into the inside of her jacket and pulled out a watch. She held it like she had seen it before.

"It's a fine watch. Doesn't need to be left out in the rain." Gregory explained, holding his jaw."

"This is our home now," Maggie explained clearly to him. "So you'll learn to start to call me by my name. Not Marsha. Not dear. Not honey. Maggie. Maggie Rhee."

"Maggie Rhee." Gregory nodded. Rory could feel how intimidating she was from where she stood next to Jesus, watching him with narrow eyes. "I'm going to find something to drink, Maggie Rhee... if it's not all been taken." 

With that, he left his office. Rory let out somewhat of a breath of relief, not convinced that Jesus would have been able to persuade him. She pressed her lips together and looked up at him.

"Thank you."

"It's the least I could do."

"It's everything." Maggie sighed out happily, crossing over to him and wrapping her arms around him. "My baby will be safe because of you."

Sasha crossed over to the window, watching the Saviors load up a truck with supplies.

"When I got here," Jesus explained. "Gregory was already in charge. Thought the people chose him for a reason. Looking at it now, I think it just happened. I didn't like how he did things, but I couldn't imagine anyone else in his place. I can now."

"Who?" Sasha asked.

"We'll talk about it sometime." He shrugged. "I should have talked to Gregory sooner. I'm sorry. Hopefully, you'll let me make it up to you." 

"We will." Maggie nodded, chewing on her lip. "The gates are closed, we can-"

"They're still loading up outside."

Maggie shook her head, unafraid. "I'll see you back at the trailer."

"I'm going to make sure she gets back safe," Sasha explained, leaving just Rory and Jesus in Gregory's office. She chewed on the inside of her lip and nodded towards the truck outside the wall. 

"We could..."

"Rory-"

"It's a bad idea but an easy one." She pleaded, turning towards him. "We could just..."

Jesus smiled, reaching up to scratch his head.

"I was gonna say it's a good idea, but..." His frown faded. "Don't come with. Stay with Maggie. Protect her. I promise I'll bring him back safely."

"Jesus-"

"I know you think it's your job, but your job is staying alive so you can see him again. That might not happen if you come with. Your face, along with Maggie and Sasha's, is a prime target. Just let me do this for you."

She hated that Jesus was right. She wouldn't be able to keep up, especially not knowing anything about the base. She looked up at him, nodding, her eyelids fluttering at the thought of Daryl being stuck there if both Jesus and she were killed. She put her hands on his face, her fingers running over the scruff of his beard.

"Bring him back to me alive."


	33. thirty-two

_"What did I say about you hallucinating me, Daryl Dixon?"_

Daryl didn't answer, his head rested against the wall of his small, concrete cell. In the corner across from him, he could see Rory, but he knew she wasn't truly there. Still, he couldn't stop himself from looking at her. She looked like something that had floated down from his dreams. She probably was.

_"No answer? That's okay, sweetheart. Seems like I'll be here all day."_

She stood up and moved to sit closer to him, but he couldn't feel her warmth like he would if she had really been there. He felt nothing but a gust of air, knowing that if he passed his hand through her, she'd be nothing but a ghost.

Rory looked down at the piece of bread on the floor next to him. "You should eat." 

"No." He finally spoke. He wouldn't eat something that had been given to him by his captors, by the person who had killed his friends. He could still feel the cold breeze of that night on that road. Since then, his gunshot wound had been properly treated, and he had been forced to change into gross sweatpants and a sweatshirt, covered in yellow paint. The front of his sweatshirt donned the letter 'A', though he wasn't sure what it meant.

_"Dixon..."_

"No." He repeated, his pain-filled eyes flickering away from her. He was enjoying the silence from that horrid song that was constantly playing in his ear, that had stopped for a few hours.

Rory pressed her lips together, standing up one more time and crossing the room over and over. She leaned against the wall across from him, bending her knees a bit.

_"When are you gonna escape this place?"_

"...don't know how yet." 

_"Then figure it out."_ She whined, sliding back down to the floor.

"I like the real you better." He mumbled, eyes fluttering closed.

 _"This is the me you made up in your head, that's your own fault."_ She retorted. _"Trust me, I wish I was actually here too._ " She was silent for a moment. _"You do realize that I'm probably going to come to save you. I'll get myself killed."_

"No." His eyes opened, eyebrows furrowing together. "You won't. _She_ won't." 

_"Keep lying to yourself, you know how in..._ " She sighed. _"Love I am with you."_

"Don't say shit like that." He demanded, and when his eyes flickered away, the door to his cell opened. He pressed his back as deep into the corner as he could, looking up to find Dwight, wearing his vest, holding his gun up towards him.

"Come on," He told him. "Time for your daily _workout_."

Daryl's daily "workout" was in a courtyard outside of The Sanctuary, which was a broken-down factory for God knows what. In a concrete square, with a perimeter of barbed wire fencing, was a drove of about fifty walkers. Most were restrained by chains, meaning it was easy to dodge one, but then you were dodging multiple at once the more you moved around. 

It exhausted Daryl, but it got him outside, so he followed Dwight out of the tall building, his hands bound with chains. Once brought outside, he could see that Negan was out there examining a truck. He averted his eyes from him as he swung that horrid bat around like it hadn't murdered innocent people, instead biding his time by watching Dwight unlock the gate to the drove of walkers. He pushed him in, and Daryl got to work, pushing walkers out of the way.

It was the only way to get his anger out.

He used his elbows and his bound fists to knock their heads against the walls, throwing them down. From afar, he could hear Saviors laughing at him, but he didn't care, letting out rough grunts as he fought. 

After about twenty minutes, he heard a crash and the breaking of glass, and he turned his head for a moment, seeing someone peering inside of the big truck that had been brought to the Sanctuary. Then, that person was getting shot in the head, and Negan was ducking down behind someone in cowardice. Daryl approached the fence, pushing a hungry walker down to their knees and bashing its skull in with his elbow so he could watch who had come, perhaps to rescue.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw who it was, and he heard a voice beside him, the phantom Rory, crossing her arms and scoffing.

_"Holy shit."_

Carl Grimes held up a machine gun towards the Saviors.

"Stay back! Drop your weapons. I only want Negan. He killed my friends."

The few Saviors held their hands up, and Daryl fought the urge to yell out to him to start running. How could he think that he would survive this? How could someone his age be that stupid?

Then Daryl realized that he had tried to do the same thing, at the railroad tracks. It had led to him witnessing the death of his friends. They were both angry, and this was Carl's way of getting rid of it.

"No one else needs to die."

They heard a whistle, and Negan came out from behind one of the men. "Damn, you are adorable. Did you pick that gun 'cause it looks cool? You totally did, right?" He grinned. "Kid, I ain't gonna lie, you scare the shit outta me."

In an instant, two Saviors lunged at Carl, and Daryl felt his heart drop. He shot the first one, but Dwight grabbed his shoulders, toppling him to the ground and easily disarming him.

"Kid!"

"Dwight," Negan ordered. "Back off."

Dwight pulled a knife off of Carl's hip, and Negan approached him, holding his hand out. 

"Is that any way to treat our new guest? Come on, kid. I will show you around. You know you do the same damn stink-eye as your dad, except it's only half as good 'cause... well, you know, you're... missing an eye."

Negan's fist clenched as Carl stared up at him. "Really? You're really not gonna take my hand? 'Cause you're lucky you even still have a hand. Same as your boy Daryl over here, now that I think about it." Negan's head turned to look at Daryl, and Daryl's jaw clenched. "How's the job going, Daryl" Hot enough for you? Yeah, it'd be tough with one arm." 

_"That motherfucking asshole."_ Rory was now outside of the fence, only a few feet away from Negan. Daryl tried to ignore her fake presence.

Daryl gripped the fence loops, cursing under his breath as Carl fearfully grabbed Negan's hand and pulled himself up.

"Smart kid. Now, come with me." He turned to Dwight. "Dwighty-boy, why don't you grab Daryl, take him to the kitchen, do a little grub prep. New plan, boys. Let's burn the dead, unload the truck later. Damn, I am not gonna have time to screw any of my wives today."

Dwight worked on unlocking the gate, and grabbed Daryl by the arm, pulling him towards The Sanctuary doors. As they passed Carl, Daryl examined him, making sure he was okay. He was visibly shaking, and Daryl's eyes softened at the young boy, someone he would almost see as a nephew or a little brother. 

He was pushed into the broken-down factory and to the right, down the hall to the kitchen, that was just a little bit past his cell, so he could always smell the food but never eat it. 

_"So we're just gonna let Carl walk around with that asshole?"_ Rory asked him, leaning against a counter as Dwight began to unlock the chains around his wrists, knowing that he wouldn't try anything.

 _"Knock the little asshole out and let's go get mini Grimes."_ She told him. "Your subconscious wants you to, or else I wouldn't be here." 

He shook his head slightly as he began to prepare a snack tray for Negan and Carl, while Daryl held a gun out towards him, making sure he wouldn't make any move. When Negan wasn't around, Dwight seemed a bit more relaxed, almost sympathetic for Daryl, as he made orders for him. 

"He's a ballsy little shit," Dwight spoke, referring to Carl. "If I were him I wouldn't touch Negan with a million-foot pole." He explained. "It's stupid as fuck." 

Rory raised her eyebrows. _"He's got that right."_

Daryl finished the snack tray in silence, ignoring the ghost and the Savior. One he was done, Dwight led him out towards a room at the end of the hall that Daryl had never been in. When the double doors opened, it was revealed that it was a room full of women, all dressed provocatively, and he assumed it was Daryl's wives. 

The only one he recognized was Sherry, Dwight's wife, who was kissing Negan right in the middle of the room, as Negan held up a finger for them to wait a moment. Carl turned to look at Daryl, shocked at his compliance, and Daryl took the chance to look at him, using his eyes to call him an idiot. 

_"Poor kid."_ His hallucination sat down on the empty couch, leaning against the pillow. 

Dwight's grip was tight on the back of Daryl's shirt as Negan grabbed a grape, popping it in his mouth. He smiled.

"Carl, will you grab this tray for me?" 

Carl did it immediately, and Daryl, in a boost of confidence, looked at Negan, directly in the face.

"Why do you got him here?"

"Whoa! What we talk about when you're not here is none of your business. Do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has. You go with Dwight, he'll get you a mop. Dwighty boy, fire up that furnace. I'll be down in a few. Time for a little deja vu." 

Daryl turned to look at Sherry, who he could see was trying to hold back tears for the poor boy. Dwight gripped his shirt, pulling him away to yet another location. Rory floated past them, her face cold as she walked backward while Dwight led him to the main courtyard, full of Saviors that were working for the day. There was a circle around a single man, who was tied to a chair and sobbing, waiting for his demise, that wouldn't come for another few hours. 

Daryl felt a mop being pushed into his hand, and he began pushing it in random directions in the middle of the floor, while people walked around him, bumping into his shoulder each time. He bit his tongue each time, trying not to curse at them.

The ghost Rory leaned against a pillar in the middle of the room, just watching him. He wanted to scream at her to go away. Looking at her face when she wasn't really there was too painful, especially when he didn't truly know if she was okay or not.

After about an hour of watching the man sob as he mopped around him, he heard a bang against the railed stairs above them. Immediately, they all kneeled, including Daryl and Dwight, leaving only Negan, Carl, and Rory standing. 

Daryl felt vomit rise in his throat as Negan handed Carl the horrid bat.

"You know the deal." He called. "What's about to happen is gonna be hard to watch. I don't want to do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can't. Why?"

The entire group in the room answer. "The rules keep us alive."

"That...is...right. We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world. We are the Saviors, but we can't do that without rules. Rules are what make it work. I know it's not easy. But there's always work. There is always a cost."

His eyebrows furrowed.

"Here, IF YOU TRY TO SKIRT IT... IF YOU TRY TO CUT THAT CORNER..." He yelled, his deep voice gravelly and full of mucus. "Then it is the iron for you. On your feet."

He led Carl down the stairs with the nod of his head to the middle of the room, where the sobbing and sweating man sat. Daryl gripped onto the mop handle, having seen this scenario before during his time here. The smell of burning skin from the last one was still in his nostrils as he watched Dwight pull a hot iron out of the furnace, and Negan pull a glove onto his hand to hold it.

"Mark... I'm sorry, but it is what it is." Negan mumbled, pressing the iron against his cheek. It created a burn just like Dwight's and Daryl watched Carl's eyes crinkle at the sound of the screams, turning his head away. The man eventually passed out from the pain, but the sound of his skin pulling off of his face was enough to make Daryl want to hurl as Negan laughed.

"That wasn't so bad, was it? Jesus... he pissed himself." 

Daryl felt Negan's mouth near his ear, pointing to the mop. "Clean that up." 

Daryl obeyed, beginning to run the mop around the unconscious man's face as a doctor began to treat his face.

"Well, the pussy passed out. But it's settled... we're square. Everything is cool. Let Mark's face be a daily reminder to him and to everyone else that the rules matter. I hope that we all learned something today because I don't EVER want to have to do that again." 

Daryl didn't dare look up at Negan as he led Carl away, as much as he wanted to run after them. After he was done cleaning up, he was simply brought back to his cell, pushing threats into Negan's head that he wished he could hear. 

Once he was back in his cell, Dwight locking the door behind him without any words, he knocked his fist against the wall. Rory had long since disappeared from his head again, so he truly was alone.

At least at first, he thought he was until he heard a gentle knocking on his cell door and the shadow of someone moving behind it. A yellow piece of paper slid underneath, and then he heard the click of the lock turning.

He grabbed the paper slowly, unraveling it, and squinting his eyes read. It was in big bold letters, emphasizing it's importance.

**GO NOW.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

_A lot of this dialogue is from the episode, Season 7, Episode 7 called Sing Me a Song, written by Angela Kang and Corey Reed. All of the dialogue Negan says in this episode is from that episode, not me._


	34. thirty-three

_"The miserable have no other medicine_

_But only hope:_

_I've hope to live, and am prepared to die."_

_**\- William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure** _

A young girl, Carl's age, watched Rory use her large knife to cut a peach in half and throw a slice into her mouth. 

Enid had never really talked to Rory back at Alexandria, and Rory knew why. She never really seemed too approachable, always busy with work.

But now she was just sat on the watchtower, eating a peach instead of her regular apple. 

Enid climbed up the watchtower, and Rory turned her head, smiling. Enid smiled back, though Rory could tell that she was anxious. She was usually with Carl, but Maggie had informed her that she had snuck out of Alexandria to make sure that she was okay, and decided to stay at Hilltop. Gregory's protests didn't mean anything.

"Where's Daryl?" Enid asked, sitting down next to her. "Nobody will tell me anything, except for Maggie... but she thought you should tell me." 

"They took him," Rory answered back calmly, breathing in through her nose. She had been spending more than half the day on the watchtower, waiting for Jesus to come back, hopefully with Daryl alive.

"I'm so fucking tired of tragedy." Enid shook her head with an exasperated smile, and almost laughed, wrapping her arms around the rail. Rory nodded, popping another peach slice in her mouth.

"I know how you feel." 

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the walkers go outside of the wall. Enid sighed, looking over at her. 

"He's really nice." 

"Hm?" Rory's eyes barely moved to look at her, finishing the peach, and throwing the pit over the wall. She wiped the red juice on her already stained jeans. 

"Daryl. He's really nice. I mean... at first, I didn't think so, but he is." 

"Yeah... he is." She allowed herself to smile for a moment. "He doesn't think so. He doesn't think much of anything about himself. You'll have to tell him if he gets here."

" _When_ he gets here." Enid corrected her, tucking her hair behind her ears. She nudged Rory with her shoulder. "Because he will. Okay?"

Rory nodded, though she felt no hope in her body anymore. It had been a full day since Jesus had left, and she feared that something had happened to him, fighting the urge every second to get up and start running towards the Sanctuary. 

"Okay..." Rory whispered back, hands shaking on her gun. They sat there, the sky still painted with different colors from the sunrise. She picked at her nails as they watched, birds chirping in nearby trees. 

"You know," Enid pulled one knee to her chest, letting the other one dangle. "Sasha is lying to Maggie about where Jesus went." 

The hair on Rory's neck stood up. She knew it was her job to keep Maggie safe until he got back, and part of that was her not knowing where Jesus went. If she knew, she would have wanted to go with him, and kill Negan herself. But the plan was not to kill Negan, it was to simply get Daryl back.

"What?" 

"She said he went on a run, I don't believe her." 

"Enid..." Rory sighed, rubbing at the bare space between her eyebrows. "You're too smart for your own good." 

"So I'm right. Sasha told me not to mention it to Maggie, said that it was for her own good. I talked to this girl who lives in that big house, she told me Jesus left yesterday. Sasha told her this morning. If we had known where Jesus was going we could have-"

"Listen to me Enid," She interrupted with a calm voice. "I know you're angry about what happened to Glenn and Abraham. You're pissed, so am I. But you weren't there, you didn't see the..." 

She shook her head, grinding her teeth. 

"The absolutely awful things that he did. That they did. You have to know how dangerous they are. It isn't just going over there and shooting him in the head. We are desperately outnumbered. You, me, everyone that we have left, would die."

She glanced at Enid, watching her words sink in. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she scratched at the wooden post. Rory knew that she understood, but it was a painful understanding, one that was hard to grasp. She, just like Rory, had wanted to believe that life could be so easy, but fate wasn't sympathetic, nor was death. 

They sat there for the entire day, Enid eventually pulling a small book out of her back pocket and reading out loud. It was _Catcher in the Rye_ , a book Rory had read a million times when she was Enid's age, and she found the familiar words calming her as she waited for Jesus and Daryl.

It almost didn't feel real, seeing Jesus walking up the hill. She stood up, her heart falling when she didn't see Daryl. She called out to Jesus as Enid stood up next to her, and his head went up, and he grinned.

How could he be grinning if Daryl wasn't there?

Then she heard the rev of an engine, and she could see a motorbike coming into view. Her hands began to shake as she saw Daryl's face, a gasp leaving her throat that was desperate and raw.

He was alive.

She watched Daryl jump off the bike when he caught up to Jesus, and begin walking it up the hill, saying something incomprehensible to him. He looked broken, and completely scarred, tattered in blood against a flannel that was barely hanging onto his shoulders.

Rory dropped her gun and completely jumped off of the tower, landing directly onto her booted feet. She waited impatiently as the gate opened for Jesus and Daryl to come through, wringing her hands together, her eyes full of tears. The moment that the gate was open, she whispered out Daryl's name, sprinting to him, almost tackling him to the ground. 

He dropped the motorbike handles, letting it fall to his legs so he could grab onto Rory, who had grabbed the back of his head to pull his face into her neck, gripping the back of his flannel with her clenched fists. He was shaking in her arms, trying to wrap his arms doubly around her waist. 

"Daryl..." She whispered, unable to say anything but his name.

"I'm here." He whispered to her. "You're here...you're real." 

Rory smiled, tears streaming from her eyes as she nodded against his shoulder. "Of course I am, Daryl Dixon." 

"You can clean up in the bathroom at the house, I'll leave some clothes outside the door, and I'll get someone to take over your patrol," Jesus explained. Rory pulled away from Daryl, as much as she didn't want to, and before Jesus picked up Daryl's bike to safely store it away, she jumped into him, giving her a quick hug.

"Thank you so much." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he nodded, patting her shoulder.

"It was my pleasure." He ruffled her hair with one hand and then leaned down to grab the bike. Once he was gone, she turned back to Daryl and held her hand out to him. He grabbed it, lacing their fingers together, and she led him towards the large house up the small hill.

"Why aren't you at Alexandria?" He asked as they walked up the steps. Rory pulled open the front door and led him inside.

"Maggie was having health issues with the baby," 

Daryl's head turned in worry.

"She's fine, the baby is fine. Sasha and I brought her here to keep her safe and get her help and ended up staying. They have a deal with the Saviors here... they have somewhat of immunity, as long as they know we're not here." 

Daryl nodded in understanding as she led him up the stairs to one of the many bathrooms in the house, letting him walk in first. She pulled a couple of towels from the rack and laid them out for him. 

"I'll be right outside the door if you-"

Daryl's hand squeezed to stop her from unweaving their fingers. He looked down with fear in his eyes, his shoulders beginning to shake.

"P...please... stay." 

Rory nodded, chewing on her lip. "Of course. Do you need help?"

Daryl nodded, but then looked up. "You don't have to-"

"Daryl, I want to help you." She whispered to him, letting go of his hand for a moment to shut the door and lock it behind her. She crossed over to him, and gave him a gentle smile, gesturing for him to sit down on the toilet seat. He did as she silently asked, and she leaned down, pulling the boots he had stolen from the Sanctuary off of his feet.

His skin, everywhere, was covered in dirt, his feet especially, with calloused and dried blood on them. She didn't speak, but she assumed that they were making him walk around without shoes.

Once the boots were off, she had him stand and help remove the rest of his clothes. She could tell he was worried, nervous to see his scars, but she didn't mind seeing him how he was, completely raw, and vulnerable. 

She helped him pull his shirt off, revealing tattoos that she had never seen before. The only one she had seen was the small skull on his hand, that he had told her he had done himself with a needle and ink, but these ones were done professionally. 

When he turned around to pull the dirty jeans down, two more tattoos were revealed, an angel a devil against his right shoulder blade. Scattered around them were long purple scars, and she chewed on her lip. They were the scars that he had told her about in the school. They were the ones that his father had given him.

She ran her fingertips against his back, and he turned around, grabbing her hand.

"Don't need to see that..." He whispered, ashamed. She smiled sadly at him.

"They aren't who you are, Daryl. They've made you stronger." 

She pulled away from him, and took a deep breath, before removing her clothes. Daryl averted his eyes as she did it, but once the clothes were gone on the floor, she began to speak about her scars, pointing at them while she explained how they came to be. Once every scar had a story, she looked up at him to see that he had grown more comfortable in his vulnerability. Satisfied, she leaned down and turned the water on for the shower. 

She stepped in first, and then backed away from the showerhead to let him get in. He did it slowly, holding onto the curtain with one strong hand to keep himself from falling. Once he was in, he pulled the curtain shut and looked at her shyly. 

Nothing was sexual about the way she touched him, putting her hands on his face and moving his hair out of his eyes. With a clean cloth and a bar of soap, she focused carefully on each part of his body, scrubbing the dirt away carefully, and noting where there were cuts so she could treat them later. Once his entire body was clean, she came up to his hair, grabbing the bottle of shampoo off of a rack and putting a generous amount on the top of his head.

As she lathered it through, his eyes fluttered close, his forehead falling onto her shoulder. She spoke to him in whispers about what had been going on at Hilltop while she washed his hair, making sure to pay close attention to behind his ears and the nape of his neck. Once she was done with that she grabbed the conditioner, and ran it through his hair, reveling in the feeling of how silky and smooth it made his hair. 

Eventually, his head left her shoulder, and he looked down at her through tired eyes. "You're the best person I've ever met." He mumbled to her in his deep, gravelly voice, his hands resting around her waist. 

"I doubt that," She smiled, wiping soap away from his forehead before it would get into his eyes.

"I ain't jokin'. You're clean, and kind... never wanna hurt nobody."

"But I have." She told him, her smile falling.

"You didn't want to. You tried not to...did it to survive." His hands moved from her waist to rest on her neck, just below her jaw. Once she looked up at him again, he smiled at her, and pressed his lips to hers, barely enough for her to feel it on her mouth, but enough to leave butterflies fluttering in her heart. 

She grinned as she pulled away from him, pushing his hair back.

"You're pretty great too, Daryl Dixon." She ran her hands through his hair a few times to make sure all the soap was gone. His cheeks flushed, and she spoke before he could protest her remark. "And I won't argue that point." 

She reached over and turned the water off, pulling the curtain. First, she wrapped a towel around Daryl, and then herself, drying herself off quickly before pulling her clothes back off. She left for a moment to grab the clothes that Jesus had left for him, a button-up tee and jeans, with some boots that would hopefully fit him better than the ones he had taken from the Sanctuary. Once the clothes were given to him, Daryl changed quickly, and rinsed his mouth with water in the sink, while Rory waited. 

Going back outside was a surprise. The moment they were out, the gates were opening again, and Rory felt anxiety rising in her chest. Once the gate was fully open, however, the two could see that it was their group. Rick, Michonne, Carl, Rosita, and Tara were standing at Hilltop, Maggie running into Rick's arms. Rory smiled, running towards Tara first, who let out a relieved gasp and clung to Rory with the same desperation.

"Hey," She giggled into her ear.

"I've missed you," Rory responded, her heart breaking all over again at the thought of Denise. "Did you hear about-"

"Yeah, Tara nodded. "I'm okay. Thank you for being there for her in her last moments." 

Maggie was explaining to Rick that the baby was okay, as Rick saw Daryl coming from the house. The moment they were within inches from each other, Daryl's head fell into his shoulder, and they greeted each other with a tight hug. Rory hugged Michonne, and Carl, and Rosita, relief flying off of her shoulders at the fact that they were okay.

She watched as she put her arm around Rosita, Daryl handing off his gun to Rick. He must have retrieved it from the Sanctuary. Rick shifted on his feet, smiling for a moment, and then started off towards the house, towards Gregory. 

They would fight the Saviors, there was no doubt about that, but they would need Hilltop's alliance to win.


End file.
